#like. it’s not up to you to finish the job but neither are you free to withdraw from it. you get what I mean?

[shuastar]

seungcheol!!!!!!!!!!! domestic fluff!!!! whimpering!!!!!!!! nipple play!!!!!!!! (both ways 😏😏😏😏) soft dom!!!!!

(the met gala pics have me 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️🤖🤖🤖🤖👽👽👽👽👽👽)

YESSS !!! i was literally waiting to write this bc im a very proud yet closetted soft dom/slightly whiny!cheol. also holy shit scoups met gala was craaaazzzy i was creamin my pants (/jk!!)

wc: 1.1K + change warnings: whimpering, nipple play, cum play (just a little bit at the end), blow job (technically 2 but whatever), consent!! (bc asking to take someone shirt off and suck their nipples is HOT not gross or weird!!), domestic fluff that turns very quickly in smut..., PWP, whining, lowkey subby cheol but issok he gets his dominance back at the end...

---

It starts lazy.

Rain taps on the windows, low thunder humming in the background. Seungcheol's arms are wrapped around your waist as you both lie tangled on the couch, a blanket pooling over bare legs. The drama playing on the TV is long forgotten—replaced by the way his fingers slowly trace under your shirt, warm and wandering.

“You’re always so soft in the mornings,” you murmur, brushing your nose against his. He just hums, lips brushing your cheek, then your jaw, then lower—

“You smell like my body wash,” he says, almost dazed, almost reverent, nuzzling into your collarbone like he needs to inhale you to stay grounded. “My pretty baby, just mine.”

His fingers slide up, tugging your shirt higher. “Can I?” he breathes against your skin, waiting for your nod before his mouth finds one nipple, tongue slow and wet, lips dragging gently. His hand palms the other, thumb rubbing in teasing circles, making you squirm under the blanket.

“Cheol—” You gasp, arching into him, and he whines softly in return, like your sounds undo him more than anything.

“You make the cutest sounds,” he whispers, mouth still latched, voice warm and thick with love. “Let me take care of you, sweetheart…”

And when you roll him onto his back and return the favor—mouth on his chest, tongue flicking and sucking at the sensitive spot you know makes him whimper—he actually shivers.

He grips the blanket tighter, biting his lip as a blush spreads down his chest. “Y-you’re not playing fair,” he stutters, moaning softly when you suck just a little harder.

“Neither are you,” you grin against his skin. “You started this, Seungcheol.”

He laughs breathlessly, eyes glazed over, adoring and needy. “Then finish it, baby,” he whispers. “Wanna be good for you. Wanna be yours.”

You giggle as he sits up against the headboard, cheeks flushed and eyes drooping as he watches you get up, slowly reaching for something on the night stand. When you turn back, hair against your shoulders, Seungcheol's thighs are parted, shirt riding up to his ribs, hair mussed from where your fingers tugged through it earlier. He looks at you like he’s already ruined—his lips parted, chest rising fast, and a shaky hand gripping the sheets.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you murmur, smiling and crawling between his legs, palms sliding along his thighs. you grin when you feel goosebumps rise against your fingertips. “All flushed for me.”

He bites his lip, eyes fluttering. “Baby… you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you cut him off gently, lips ghosting over the soft skin of his lower belly. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He whimpers—actually whimpers—when you mouth over the waistband of his briefs, teasing just enough to drive him crazy. When you finally free him, hard and leaking against his stomach, he moans your name like a prayer.

“Please…” he breathes, hips twitching up instinctively. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You wrap one hand around the base of him, slow and careful, and lower your mouth to the tip—tongue flicking gently over the slit, tasting the precum beading there. Seungcheol lets out the softest moan, one hand flying to your hair, not pushing—never—just grounding himself.

“F-fuck, baby, j's like that… you’re so good to me…”

You take him in deeper, inch by inch, keeping your eyes on him the whole time. His head tips back, a pretty flush blooming down his neck, his free hand grabbing the sheets again like he might fall apart.

When you hum around him—slow vibrations, tongue dragging up the underside—he lets out a full-body shudder and moans, loud. His hips jerk and he immediately pulls at your hair with a broken, “Sorry—fuck, sorry—feels too good…”

His head tips back again and a dull thud rings out in the background as the headboard hits his head. You feel his fingers curl around your hair, strong hands now almost -- almost -- guiding you. You know he can't help it. When you feel his hips jerk again, followed by a loud moan and a string of "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck," you hum around his cock, taking in a long breath through your nose before you let your jaw loose and push yourself down all the way. All the way until your nose meets the tense and taut skin of his lower stomach and until your boyfriend's hand suddenly pressed down, legs tensing, hips rocking until the mushroomy tip of his cock hits, hits, hits, hits the back of your throat until you feel tears in your eyes and youre gagging around the width of his length.

“Hng - you’re perfect,” he rasps, voice wrecked. “My good girl… taking me so well. So warm—fuck—I’m already so close…”

When Seungcheol's hand slowly loosens you press your tongue flat and bob your head gently, the obscene sounds of your mouth and his breathy moans filling the room. And when he finally spills into your mouth, gasping your name like it’s the only word he knows, his thighs trembling around you. Hot cum shoots into your mouth and your ears are blessed with Cheol's loud moans and whines and whimpers and gasps of breath. Under your wandering hands -- up his stomach, tweaking his pink nipples, fondling his heavy balls, tongue underrent on the red tip of his cock, Seungcheol gasps in short quick breaths, body writhing as he shakes and trembles, at a loss for words, cock jumping in your hands, tip pulsing in your mouth as you suck and suck and--

"Fu-fuck-- holy -- you tryin' - shit - milk me dry -- fuck -- or somethin'?" Seungcheol voice is so broken it makes your heart race in pride.

You don’t stop, just hum, until his hand cups your cheek, tender and shaking, body curling forward, hips jerking up, other hand threaded into your hair as he pushes you down.

"Fuck!"

And then when his balmy tip hits the back of your throat again, theres a thick spurt of saltiness on your tongue, followed by a sob torn from Seungcheol's mouth.

You grin around his cock, slowly pulling off his softening and pulsating length with a small pop! cum from the first blowjob now a creamy ring around Cheol's cock and the second round safe and warm on your tongue.

You stick your tongue out, white cum dripping from the corner of your mouth, Seungcheol staring at you with dazed and glazed eyes, red cheeks like you just hung the moon. You slowly swallow, sitting against his hips, cum still against the corner of your mouth, the rest gone (and you 100% stick your tongue out again for him to see).

Seungcheol groans, hands going to knead your hips, thumb gently wiping away his cum from the corner of your mouth, licking it clean.

"You minx," he laughes breathily. “C’mere,” he whispers once he catches his breath, tugging you up with that needy look in his eyes. “Wanna kiss you. Wanna feel you now. Let me love you properly.”

[kitchensinksurrealism]

thumbnail that says "staying in my band until I feel appreciated" and the video is 3 years long

[seumyo]

bakugou’s never been happier to do this alongside you.

The sound of Bakugou’s ringtone—specifically one for those calls—the kind that only came when villains decided to cause trouble at ungodly hours—jolted him awake on the second ring. The kind that meant neither of you were getting any more sleep.

He groaned loudly, his voice raspy from sleep. “Son of a—” He didn’t even finish the curse as he snatched his phone and squinted at the glowing screen. “What the hell is it this time?”

Beside him, you stirred, mumbling groggily as you pulled the blanket over your head. “Is it another one?” you asked sleepily, your voice muffled.

Bakugou ignored you for the moment, his phone pressed to his ear as the barking voice of the dispatcher filled the room. His brows furrowed deeper, his scowl turning deadly as he listened to the report. “Villains in the old district? At this hour? Those bastards don’t sleep or somethin’? Yeah, yeah—I got it. We’ll be there.”

He slammed the phone down on the bed, letting out a deep sigh as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Goddamn it. I hate this stupid job.”

You let out a small laugh beneath the blanket. “Liar.”

Bakugou glared at the lump of fabric that was you—his partner. “What’d you just say?”

“You heard me,” you teased, peeking out just enough for him to see the drowsy smile on your face—which can barely be seen with the dim light of the moonlight outside the bedroom window. “You love this job, Kats. You’d combust without it.”

“Like hell I would,” he muttered, standing up and running a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m only outta bed ‘cause I don’t trust those extras not to screw up.”

“You’re up because you want to. Big difference.”

“Whatever.” Bakugou shot you a glance over his shoulder. “Hurry your ass up. Don’t got time for you to sit there all cozy like we ain’t got villains to blow up.”

You didn’t budge.

“Give me two minutes. I just need to—hey!”

Bakugou had moved without warning, stomping back to the bed and scooping you up in one fluid motion. You let out a surprised squeak as he effortlessly picked you up, blanket and all, and cradled you against his chest.

“Katsuki!” you protested, trying to wriggle free. “What are you doing?!”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, barely sparing you a glance as he carried you toward the door. “You’re slow as hell when you’re tired. This’ll save time.”

“You can’t just carry me every time we get called in!”

“Watch me.”

He stomped down the hallway, his bare feet thudding against the wooden floor, while his voice dipped into a string of curses. “Stupid villains. Stupid middle-of-the-night calls. Stupid hero work. I’m gonna blast whoever’s causing this into the next century.”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter now, your head falling back against his shoulder. “You sound like a cranky old man.”

“Keep talkin’ and I’m droppin’ you,” Bakugou threatened. “Why the hell are you laughin’? Think this is funny?”

“Very. You’re like my happy pill.”

“Yeah? And you’re heavy,” he grumbled, though the way he carried you effortlessly said otherwise.

“Excuse me?!”

A corner of Bakugou’s mouth quirked up as he looked down at you, amusement flickering in his eyes despite his perpetual scowl. “I didn’t say nothin’. Quit wastin’ time.”

You smiled against his shoulder, listening to him grumble about this whole ordeal. He sounded pissed—like the world had wronged him personally by waking you two up—but you could see the truth in his actions. His grip was steady, his movements careful as he carried you to where your hero gear was waiting. It was such a Bakugou thing to do: grumble and complain, but still take care of you without hesitation.

By the time you make it to the gear room, Bakugou carefully sets you down on your feet. You wobbled slightly from the sudden shift, and Bakugou’s hand instinctively shot out to steady you.

“Oi, don’t fall on me now.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you murmured, rubbing your eyes before turning to grab your hero suit. “You’re way too grumpy for someone who just carried me all the way here. Admit it—you love being a hero.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“You do, though,” you teased, already halfway into your gear. “I know you do.”

Bakugou clicked his tongue, but he didn’t argue. Instead, his voice softened just enough to make you pause. “I wouldn’t do this job if it meant leavin’ you to deal with shit alone.”

You stilled, looking at him from the corner of your eye. He was standing by the doorway now, fully suited up and waiting for you, his face set in his usual determined scowl. But something about the way he looked at you, about the small, unspoken truths in his words, made your chest feel warm.

“Y’know, you’re so sweet to me at the most inconvenient times. Why can’t you say things like that when I don’t look like I’ve been ran over by a truck because I’m sleep deprived?”

“Die.”

“Is that your way of saying you love me too, Ka-tsu-ki?”

He scoffed. “Hurry up, dumbass. We’ve got work to do.”

“Ha! You didn’t deny it, so I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Shut up, you’re annonyin’.”

You smiled faintly, finishing the last of your preparations before walking over to him. “But you love me.”

“Of fucking course,” Bakugou said, opening the door and stepping out into the brisk night air. “Let’s go. Those idiots could only hold out for so long ‘cause they really had to call us in.”

You followed close behind, still smiling to yourself as you fell into step next to him. Despite his grumbles, despite the curses under his breath, Bakugou had never been happier. Because at the end of the day, no matter how ungodly the hour, you were always there—and as far as he was concerned, nothing else mattered.

Because he loves this job—especially when he’s doing it alongside you.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[i2sunric]

𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 (s.jy)

PAIRING: horny!jake x succubus!reader (f)

SUMMARY: jake has always been an hyper sexual type boy, always seeking relief in the depth of night. but his hand isn't as satisfying anymore and neither are his toys, and in his moment of desperation, you appear like a gift sent from heaven (or hell).

WARNINGS: kinktober. succubus (a sexual demon), masturbating, pillow humping, riding, overstimulation, messy blow job, jake is kinda sub, doggy, missionary, unprotected sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), cream pie, dirty talking, manhandling, (idk if there’s a slight cnc?), slight choke kink, jake whines and whimpers (we like), cum eating, oral (m receiving), pussy licking, pet names (jakey, baby), lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 20th October 2024

WC: 2.9k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @destinyhoon @jakeflvrz @emislove @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove (oneshot) @leov3rse @eileenville @roastandtoast @heeaxvhhoon @doublebunv @ancnymcnzjy @heartynoo @rii7eis7 @lyxnneee @yunahszx

a/n: i literally have 8 drafts for kinktober but i’m not sure i’ll be able to finish them all (sorry). i don’t even really like how this one came out but i thought i owned y’all some new fics since i’ve been ia for a while. please REBLOG to spread bcs only likes don’t take authors so far. thank you 🩷

Jake was resting on his bed, or so he tried to. His back was against the mattress, the only light illuminating the room was the one of the moon, entering from the window as if to peek to his desperation.

Fact was, he had been a painful hard on the whole day and fate wanted that he couldn’t seem to make himself come.

It was true when they said that as you overdo something, you grow tired of it, because his hand had stopped working a couple of weeks before, which led him to the sex shop downtown to purchase a couple of toys.

And they worked, for the following couple of days until the empty feeling after jerking off hadn’t come back.

“Ugh…” He muttered to himself, he was desperate at this point.

His entire body felt hot with arousal, the air around him getting stuffy. It was a wonder how his hand hadn’t fallen off from all the wanking he had done in the past week.

Jake was left with a raging bulge making fun of him through the fabric of his sweats, his cock so hard it was even painful to exist.

He grabbed his phone from off to the side, opening up the internet in hopes of finding something to satisfy his needs. He began scrolling on a pornography site, a small sigh escaping from his mouth as he quickly found something he liked.

It was a rather soft porn, just a ‘morning sex’ one, he skipped all the intro until it got to the good part.

Jake slowly pulled down his sweats, just enough to free his cock from the restraints of the clothing.

He hadn’t even worn his boxers to bed, feeling suffocated.

He raised the volume of the video, holding his phone with one hand while he started to touch himself with the other.

He was sensitive, slowly pumping his shaft up and down. As the moans of the video got louder and the boy fucked the girl harder into the mattress, he too tried to fast his pace— and nothing.

Jake continued his search, even going to the hidden pictures of his galleries where he kept screenshots of his favourite porns of all times.

Nothing seemed to work on him, nothing brought him enough pleasure to get him off.

Jake groaned loudly and threw his phone on the mattress, far away from him.

He stared at his cock as if it had personally offended him, it stood proud and angry red in front of him.

Suddenly, an idea flashed in his mind.

If hand didn’t work, and neither did the kinky toys he got, he’d have to try the traditional way of fucking a pillow.

He grabbed the pillow from behind his head and turned around, his chest now pressed onto the mattress.

Jake rested his head on the other, smaller pillow while he raised his backside, enough to make a makeshift hole of the pillow.

He inserted his aching cock and thrusted his hips, slowly. The fabric of the pillow touching his length made him moan softly. He tried to imagine someone being under him, someone letting him rut his cock inside of them.

Just as he focused on the small pleasure he got, a giggle made his eyes widen in surprise.

Peeking from behind his shoulder, he noticed a red figure.

“What—“ Jake turned around, covering his dignity with the pillow (as if he wasn’t just grinding on it). There was no way someone had entered his bedroom, or his house in general. He remembered he had locked all the doors before going to bed, so how did you get inside?

You stood in front of the bed, looking at him with a wide smile on your face. Your skin was reddish, and you had small horns on your head, as well as a tail moving left and right, as if you were amused by the scene you had just witnessed.

“Hey,” You purred, waving your hand at him “Having fun there?”

“Who are you?” He asked, moving into a sitting position “Or… what are you?”

Your body was barely covered by a brown top and a pair shorts of the same colour, making your curves and body perfectly visible.

Lord, if you weren’t such an arousing sight. Had he been in the right mind, and not clouded by lust, he would’ve realised you were a succubus.

A demon that got its power from having sex with desperate men in the middle of the night, taking strength by their semen. Your body was meant to make him horny.

“Don’t worry about it...” You raised a brow, as if to ask, him for his name.

Jake understood and cleared his throat “Jake.”

You smiled happily “Jake, what a pretty name for a pretty boy!” You exclaimed.

“I am Y/N.” You introduced yourself, placing a hand on your chest, clearly making his attention go to your tits.

He nodded in reply, his eyes ranking over your figure warily “So.. what are you?”

You just rolled your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, I’m here to help you.” You bit your bottom lip “Don’t hide from me.”

Jake glanced down at where the pillow was hiding his lower body and let out a shaky breath.

He debated whether to listen to you or try and get some more answers out of you— but you were so willingly giving your help to him, he couldn’t just refuse you. Not after he had waited for this moment so long.

Cautiously, he removed the pillow, showing his cock that sprang free.

Your eyes widened and your mouth watered. “Aren’t you huge?” You complimented, loving the way it throbbed at your comment.

Just the sight of your perfect body made some precum leak from the tip, and you knew he must’ve been so pent up he was suffering.

“You don’t have a pussy to bury your pretty cock in?” You purred, slowly crawling on the bed.

“N-no.” Jake replied.

“It’s okay,” You stated, slowly pumping his shaft “You can use mine.”

Just your mere touch made his mind grow foggy, your pretty palm wrapped around his length.

He moaned softly as you spat on it, using your saliva to lubricate the skin.

Jake’s eyes fluttered shut, it just felt so good to finally be touched by something that wasn’t his own hand, and he whimpered when your mouth wrapped around him.

It was so warm and it felt so good, the way you slowly moved up and down, bobbing your head to pleasure him.

Without even him realising, his hand had moved to your hair, grasping your locks as he thrusted upwards.

In a way, you liked how desperate he was. Your power was lowering the past few days and he was just what you needed— a horny college student in desperate need of filling some nice pussy.

Oh, if only he knew your true intentions.

His hips began to move as he held you still, fucking your mouth like you were a flesh light. Though you felt even better.

You gagged around his length and the sound only fuelled his contorted desires. “Mh— fuck.” He moaned, his hips snapping back and forth “So good,” Jake breathed out “So fucking good.”

You decided to hollow your cheeks and let him use you, one of your hands moving inside your panties to lazily circle your clit. You were already dripping wet, while he was leaking precum inside your mouth, filling your taste buds with a bittersweet taste.

“I’m so close, M’gonna— Oh!” He groaned loudly as he shot his thick load down your throat, his cock pulsating inside your mouth as he pushed your head down further. You palmed his balls, just adding to the overwhelming pleasure he felt.

You could almost feel him whole down your throat, you frowned as you tried your best not to gag around it.

After a couple of seconds, he let you go, his breath heavy as he tried to regain strength.

You pulled away and licked your lips, loving the sweet taste of his cum.

And as you looked down, you noticed he was already hard. You widened your eyes, a smirk forming on your lips.

But Jake wasn’t as lust-high as he had been when you found him humping his night pillow, and he sat up properly.

With one swift movement he grabbed your throat, making sure not to squeeze it too tight and he pressed his plump lips on yours.

As surprised as you were, you quickly recovered and reciprocated the kiss, teeth crashing and tongues swiping one on the other.

His free hand snuck between your thighs, feeling your wetness, making him swallow your moan.

“So wet for me, mh?” Jake murmured on your lips, helping you out of your tight shorts “Let me give you back your favours.”

You felt his finger press against your entrance but you stopped him. You certainly didn’t need any prepping, the only thing you needed was him shooting his cum deep inside of you.

But that, he didn’t need to know, so you just whined “Need you inside of me Jakey, please.”

“Yeah?” He retrieved his hand, manhandling you into the mattress. He crashed your head on the pillow - yes, the one he was fucking just a few minutes before - and held your ass up.

It was cute how he thought he was in charge, but you didn’t mind being dominated, so you let him be.

He opened your asscheeks with his slender fingers and licked a long stripe out of your folds, making you moan.

“Hurry,” You pressed your backside further into his face, making Jake slap your asscheek.

Had your skin not been already red, his slap would’ve left an angry mark. But you liked it, so you pressed your ass against him again.

Jake groaned, slapping the same asscheek that left a burning sensation cursing through your body.

He moved up, quickly discarding his shirt and sweatpants, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Want a condom?” You almost laughed at his question, reaching a hand to pull him close, you hissed “Give it to me raw.”

He felt himself grow even harder at your dirty talk, he pumped his shaft and pressed it against your clit, gathering all your sweet juices.

You hummed softly at the teasing, needing him to be inside of you, that thick cock to press against your cervix and making you see the heaven you weren’t allowed in.

With one quick thrust, Jake slammed all of himself inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs.

It was true that you didn’t need any prepping, having done this for a living - literally - but you felt him whole, “S’deep.” You sighed.

Jake moaned at how your walls hugged him, squeezing any drop of precum, swallowing his full length.

He pulled out just to slam back inside, gripping your asscheeks. “Fuck,” He breathed out, his pace already quickening as he tried to chase both of your highs.

“You like it deep, baby?” He asked, “You like it feeling me so deep inside of ya?”

You nodded, reaching your hand behind to touch him, but Jake got ahold of your wrists and held both of them behind your back.

The position would’ve been uncomfortable if you weren’t so aroused, it’d been a while since you were fucked hard and Jake seemed like the best victim you had in ages.

“Pussy so good,” He grunted, eyes squeezing as he felt himself near the edge “So fucking perfect, baby.”

You tried to peek at him from behind your shoulder, and Jake noticed. He gave you a sly wink and let go of your wrists, pulling out of you to turn you around.

Your back was now on the mattress, the human spread your legs wide as he aligned with your entrance once again.

He positioned your legs on his shoulders and quickly got inside again, as if he were addicted to being in you, his balls slapped against your ass.

“Better, ain’t it?” You wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you to kiss his lips “I get to see your pretty face as I fill you up with my cum.” The angle you were bent was awkward but you didn’t really care.

The thought made you clench around him and Jake groaned in your mouth, his cock rutting fast and deep.

The squelching sound of skin slapping filled the room, for once Jake was glad of owning a house and not an apartment, or the neighbours would’ve had already come to complain.

He held your throat with his veiny hands, adding just the right amount of pressure to make you light-headed.

“Jakey,” You breathed out, mouth agape “Want your cum, give it to me.”

Your words only fuelled his desire, he sped his movements - if it was even possible - his face contorted in pleasure as he felt his orgasm approach.

“Yes, yes, M’gonna give it to you, baby,” He chanted out, his cock throbbing “Fuck— I’m gonna fill you up so good.”

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and squeezed your clothed breast, kneading at the soft flesh.

His movements became sloppy until with one last, deep thrust he came deep inside of you.

“Yes!” You breathed out, as his cum flooded inside of you, you could feel yourself growing stronger, your powers returning.

Jake’s movements grew slower until they stopped, his laboured breath tickled your skin.

He was tired, strangely so, he pulled out of you and laid beside you “Shit, this was the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

His eyes closed as exhaustion washed over him, but you weren’t done.

Oh, you were far from done.

First, you hadn’t come yet and second, you needed more of his semen.

You climbed on top of him, smiling at his fucked up state. He looked so pretty with messy hair, swollen lips and red cheeks.

Jake slowly opened his eyes, widening them a little as he took you in “Y/N? What are you— Fuck.”

He groaned loudly as you fisted his softened cock, wanting him to get hard again so you could ride him.

“S-stop.” He gripped your hand but you were stronger than him now, shoving it away “Shh, I’ll make you feel good, pinky promise.”

You chuckled within yourself, slowly grinding your wet pussy on his hardening length.

Jake sighed, his hands lazily holding your hips “You need to cum, baby?”

You hummed, your fingers grazing his happy trail “Mh… yes, will you make me?”

Jake nodded, his eyes half lidded “I can use my tongue, no need to…” He grunted as you lifted yourself and held his dick up, slowly lowering on him.

As you bottomed out, you moaned, the shadow of his bulge peeking through your stomach.

You threw your head back, his cock sliding in and out easily thanks to your wetness and his previous orgasm still lingering inside of you.

“M-too sensitive baby, please…” You chuckled, “You can take another one.”

His brows furrowed as you alternated between moving up and down and grinding him, his nails digging in the skin of your hips.

“So? Can you take another one, mh?” Jake sighed, nodding his head weakly “Y-yes.”

“Atta’ boy.” You exclaimed, rewarding him by riding him faster.

Jake felt all of your movements, the overwhelming sensation making his body rock with tremors “Can’t… can’t.”

“No, you can.” You grasped his shoulders and moved your hips almost frantically, your clit brushing against his skin.

His body tensed, his feet flexing and relaxing, “Fuck… I’m gonna cum again.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling your climax reach as well “Mh… give it all to me, Jakey.”

His hands moved to your breasts as he squeezed them to the point of pain, you clenched around him and he snapped.

His cum shot inside of you, his cock throbbing painfully as he came for the third time of the night.

He whimpered when you didn’t stop, trying to move you away but you didn’t, you just kept moving until you saw white as well.

Your legs trembled as you reached your euphoria, while Jake’s body collapsed whole on the bed.

His eyes slowly closed, too tired to even stay awake. He slowly succumbed to sleeping.

You smiled victoriously, feeling your powers raise even more. Standing up, you let the remaining of his semen drop out of you and stretched.

Sighing contentedly, you reached for your discarded shorts and put them back on.

“I’m feeling so refreshed!” You smiled happily, but as you turned around you saw Jake’s slumped figure on the mattress.

Feeling pitiful, since he seemed so vulnerable, you covered his naked body with the blanket. Smiling at his face, you noticed he really was a pretty guy.

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek, moving some hair out of his sticky forehead.

“See you soon, Jakey.” You smirked and disappeared, with the intention of coming back to him whenever you felt weak. Which, maybe would’ve happened more often.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising. 

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can. 

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed. 

“A crab,” 

“Yes,” 

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby. 

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke. 

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book. 

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself. 

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else. 

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend. 

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend. 

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand. 

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. 

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return. 

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you. 

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance. 

“You must really like the beach.” 

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too. 

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.” 

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock. 

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.” 

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him. 

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker. 

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up. 

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses. 

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look. 

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone. 

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain. 

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. 

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat. 

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh. 

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away. 

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job. 

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes. 

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.” 

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little. 

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words. 

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically. 

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you. 

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. 

And then you make a giant fucking mistake. 

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too. 

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. 

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body. 

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures. 

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. 

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back. 

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise. 

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic. 

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. 

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it. 

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.” 

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-” 

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing. 

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. 

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building. 

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk. 

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window. 

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above. 

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand. 

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?” 

“Mm, a few times.” 

“How?” 

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.” 

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,” 

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little. 

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat. 

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.” 

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false. 

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper. 

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. 

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. 

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. 

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen. 

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs. 

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.” 

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass. 

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. 

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general. 

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily. 

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more. 

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. 

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face. 

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. 

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you. 

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine. 

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that. 

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.” 

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips. 

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. 

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim. 

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly. 

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length. 

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly. 

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed. 

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this. 

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu. 

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum. 

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you. 

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this. 

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. 

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time. 

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him. 

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here. 

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.” 

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape. 

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?” 

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.” 

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.” 

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?” 

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin. 

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?” 

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.” 

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.” 

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.” 

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Taglist; @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[szftzy]

yandere batfam concept!

okk so what if, batfam! but mc is a senior, around 18, about to graduate. they work a part time job paying off expenses, while cramming studies and what not. quite a productive life style right?

well, it most definitely gets tiring. thing is, mc knows two brothers around their age, and knowing them for quite a while. sure they were intimidating at first, but you grew to like them as good friends! the younger brother being feisty, while the older one witty.

now you forgot to bring up a fine detail, they were billionaires. more specifically— waynes.. now i know that was a crucial detail but bare with me here!

now, the mc is not a leech. they would enjoy treating themselves, but their dignity as a hard working person doesn't let them! that includes asking of anything from their filthy rich acquaintances.now, when the brothers had invited them over on their behalf, after a while of knowing them, it was pretty awesome.. like not to be dramatic.

now as they had kept sleeping over one or two times, they had meet the rest of the siblings. they had quite a big family, (5 brothers, 3 sisters, a butler and their dad.) of course having equal excitement for each member they had met, but definitely not amounting to the adore they had for their dad! I mean cmon, he built this empire by his bare hands! you'd like to know if you could get a tip or two on how to be successful, ya know.. for the near future.

now that you think about it, that makes you more excited to hang out with them. their family dynamic is so bizarre and so full of life, you do get a bit jealous at times— but never in any bad intentions, you are more than happy for them! plus if it gets you free delicious cookies from the butler, your more than down!

hanging out more around them makes you notice all their little ticks, everything that they like, anything that puts a frown on their face.. even though thats routine for some of them. ahem ahem.. now at a point it can get lonely, like your so invited in the family, but not at the same time..? its sorta difficult to explain, so just never-mind.

now it does get to a point where the mc, gets their own room! now you definitely had a guest room, but at some point your room starts to have life. its not a guest room anymore, little by little it fills up with your interests, your favorite colors, anything that you would like. although subtly gets noticeable over time. now it definitely had a bit of childish tones about it, which was weird considering you were about to be a legal adult.. but okay?

Now at this point, Its nearly graduation. now this would be a joyous event, if not for the fact you were planning on leaving for metropolis.(of all places?) as a kid, you always knew you didn't wanna stay in Gotham, it being the dangerous and gloomy city, although it had its pros, the cons were way more.

And you definitely had grown to adore your friends, they almost feel like family at times, but life has to go on. right?

when they heard about this, they were not elevated for sure.. for a while after that it was just awkward smiles and weird tensions, neither side being happy with what was gonna happen, but you had to.

before school got too busy, you decided to go out with them more! they insist on sleepovers instead of going outside, which you don't really understand why since it wont make a difference. maybe its because they were billionaires or something.. Man rich people are weird.

Anyways, when it came time for exams, you had nearly stopped going out at all. concerning them immensely, but it had taken you a while to assure them you were studying. much to their dismay. (weird, that was something they always detested? their not setting a very good example.) now when you finished up exams, and your graduation ceremony occurred, of course they had to be there!

and after that, they would start bombarding you with text messages, each text had a personality where without even looking at who sent it you could tell who it was from, each text begging you for something. it was always something about— come over! stay! dont go! say goodbye! yada yada yada..—

now it gets annoying at a certain point. but you had decided to pay them one last visit, having packed your stuff and everything done early, you decided it couldn't hurt— oh really now?

your last dinner with them, was interesting! at first the tension was as thick as a wall. for the most part it being small chit chat. but over time, you guys had regained your flow of conversations, everyone chatting and laughing actually having a good time. now their dad doesn't join in alot, but when he does, he also does have fun! which is a bit odd, but its adorable.

when he kindly offered you chamomile tea, you politely refused, but since he insisted, you decided to take him up on his offer. now this wasnt anything weird since the waynes were very generous, but now for some odd reason everyone was staring.. which you tried to pay no mind to.

but as you continue drinking the tea you felt more and more woozy, knowing to just stop and put the tea down..

suddenly a rough hand from behind firmly grabs the cup and gently peers it up to your lips, in total shock you had tried to push the hands away, but it was to no use. you could only watch as you kept drinking the obviously drugged cup, feeling the other hand rubbing against the small of your back soothingly..

you were only a little bit conscious here and there.. enough to feel someone easily carrying you, leading you somewhere, and tad bits of conversations that slipped your mind before you could comprehend.

now waking up in this room, the room you had a bad feeling about.. surrounded by comfortable pillows, big cute plushies, and soft large sheets. to your surprise you were also changed in the most comfortable silk pajamas. it almost coerced you to fall back asleep but you knew better!

you immediately jumped up and ran up to the door, quite obviously secured with locks from the outside.

you tried pushing the doorknob but to no avail, now due to your panic you just froze. immediately lying down on the floor from shock, tears bubbling up.

you buried your face into your knees, and just started sobbing your heart out— why now?! why now of all times to ruin your life? just when it started to get good for you..

you then hear the sound of keys being forced open, and then the door gets kicked down. did someone come to save you? at the doorway, their was the brothers! both with worried looks on their faces, the two ran up to you and immediately locked you in their warm yet suffocating embrace

they immediately start apologizing, for not being there when you woke up.. wait what? they're not here to help?

then it all connected, you were an idiot.. yesterday.. this room. it was obviously their doing. you attempted to sprint off the minute they loosened their grip, bad move.. they were gonna let you explore the manor. but now they knew you need a few months to get adjusted.

now they had tried to not overwhelm you too much, their precious baby, only a few batfamily members being there at a time. sometimes all of them would be there, but at that point you would be napping. unaware to the eyes adoringly watching you drool on whoever had the fortune to carry you that day.

they're so affectionate towards their sibling/kid to a point where its infantilizing. like they will just hold you down for hours, whispering sweet nothings as you lay down in the comfiest bed you can imagine of.

of course sometimes you can still leave your room here and there! ljust not the manor itself. (like you cant leave, ever.) and yes you can still do all your favorite hobbies, darling.. but I'm a little afraid its too grown up for you.. how about we lay down for a nap, okay?

not to mention— you used to have a job, before they confined you. you used to have studies, responsibilities and issues— all that? no more, we'll take care of all that.

don't start questioning them why you suddenly feel lightheaded and tired right after waking up from another nap. its definitely not the tea they just coerced you to drink! again! you probably just thought a little too hard for your fragile brain.. its okay, just rest your head in their lap and let all your worries go away. <3

and you couldnt even fight back! you were not blessed with the best height or physique, and not to mention even the members who didn't fight as much, still had years of technique and experience! yeah.

and now all of a sudden anytime a conversation gets even the slightest bit mature, they'll cover your ears and act like your not there, or have another member of the family escort you to your room for a nap. you don't need to know any of that, sunshine. and if you try to insert your own take on the topic? they'll just laugh, no baby.. your too precious to actually understand these big conversations. maybe when your older?

on the topic of your room again— it is the cutest, most comfortable room someone could think of! filled with your favorite colors, big pillows and plushies.. way too childish for your tastes.. but at first when you had slept over you didn't mind. the room had no windows, you didn't think much at first. not until they had started adding more locks to your door? and apparently your room is soundproof?

no wonder any guests they have over cant hear your pleas of help, thats even if you were allowed to be awake when they came over! please forgive them.. they're just so overprotective, and feel so jealous if someone comes near.

oh and if someone questions whats the door with alot of locks, positioned right next to your dads, was for? well they'd either just change the topic as quick as they could, or give them a filthy look that would make them reconsider ever asking that question.. poor guy.

It evolved from just staying over at your rich friends house, to being under lock and key, as their little baby for them to cherish and adore.

soo this was jus a lil drabble, but lemme know if you guys want a part 2 or something longer!

[hai7ani]

familiar / haitani rindou

Haitani Rindou turns 32, gets married, and he silently wonders why people are so nice to him now.

the old retired ladies promoting milk powders and selling fresh fruits in the grocery store rushes up to him at any chance they get. one time when browsing for milk formulas one of them had tapped him on the shoulder, pointed at a brand she was not promoting for but thought was amazing when her own grandchild had tried it, and then placed a bunch of other stuff in his cart that she thinks his wife would need. an example would be containers of freshly cut mixed fruits that her colleague had just prepared. you remember him telling you that her tone was a lot more different than the average grocery store promoter trying to sell you a product ー it was almost as if she was talking to her own son.

when shopping for flowers just like he does every Sunday suddenly the part-timer who is usually silent, does her job and only responds to customers' needs had stepped up to him and pointed out a few selections that she believes are lovely for expecting parents. she was even smiling when doing so. and you remember he came home to you that day with two bouquets of fresh flowers ー chrysanthemum and baby's breath ー one in each hand.

today when taking you out for dinner in the local family-owned restaurant the daughter had served you a warm bowl of beef bone soup. neither of you had ordered it for yourselves, and you were about to tell her that, but her mother speaks before you can. "drink it, love. the soup is good for you." she yells a little from where she sits at the cashier with a grin. when Rindou stands to pay after finishing up her husband then refuses to take your bill for the night. "it's okay, son. dinner's on the house this time." he pats his shoulder and pushes you both out the door. "take care, you two. the next time you come i'll cook tofu for you, alright?" it was directed to you and you'd laughed, a little embarrassed but feeling warm and fuzzy nonetheless.

and now you are listening to your own husband ramble on and on about his new mysteries while he massages your feet on the couch.

"i seriously don't get it. i've been going to these places for years now and they were never this nice to us. i mean, they are nice, but never this nice, you know? it's the first time we've ever gotten a free meal from Kobayashi's."

we. us.

you brush his hair back, admiring the light wrinkles that have started to form on his skin. "that's exactly it, don't you think?" you bring it up and he hums in confusion.

"perhaps the reason why they've been so nice lately is exactly because you've been going to these places for years now. they know you."

"huh?"

"if you think about it, they've watched you go from an ordinary man to a husband, then a father. watched you bring a girl they've never seen before to these places more often and suddenly we go together all the time, you have a ring on your finger and i am pregnant. perhaps it is why. a sense of familiarity, maybe?"

Rindou looks at you as if you are love and warmth and everything pink and red and blue and purple and-

you are right, actually. you'd went from a girl he met at a bar to becoming the love of his life, the woman who is now carrying the love you both share. and the ladies at the grocery store, the Kobayashi's, the part timer who's been around even after graduating university years ago? they've all watched him grow.

when Rindou was 17 and had gotten ambushed by a rival gang alone, it was madam Kobayashi who'd ushered him into their store way past the last call and offered to cook him a nice meal, had her medical student son patch him up, her husband to chase away the remaining guys who were waiting for Rindou to come back out. her daughter had been about Rindou's age then, hiding behind the cashier and watching as he ate in silence with a cut to his lip, another on his eyebrow. (to this day still no one except for you, her, and him, knows that the reason he'd gotten ambushed that day was because he'd stood up for miss Kobayashi when she was getting bullied by one of the delinquents. she still thanks him for what he'd done whenever you both finish up your meal and get ready to leave.) Rindou was 17 when he'd first discovered what it was like to care for people; to be a human before anything else.

the two ladies from the grocery store wasn't yet retired and working this job back then. the promoter lady used to be the janitor who was working in the office building of his first job. she'd watched him gone through periods of unknowing, confusion, stress, to become a solid man of status today. the lady who is selling fruits used to work as a professional tutor and had been the one to tutor Rindou and his brother on Mathematics. although she is mute and can't respond in words when her students have confusing questions to ask, the brothers still thought of her as a good teacher because of the way she taught, which is why they'd stuck around and refused to switch teachers despite their parents' disapproval. because she is mute, she can only count on her colleague to dump containers of freshly cut fruits into his cart while motioning for her to tell him things that she actually wants to say to him whenever he visits the store.

the part timer at the florist is a lot younger than he is, but she have been working there for a very long time. watched him when he was still an inexperienced bachelor pacing around the store wondering which flower would be good on a first date to buying the same flowers every Sunday because you'd liked the lilies that she recommended.

it'd be heartwarming for anyone to see the boy you watch grow around love, into love, finding love, to marrying her and becoming a father.

"...yeah. maybe."

[f4ggydog]

Shauna and lottie taking advantage of reader 🤭

LOTTIESHAUNA X READER NONCON:

you’re hesitant, secured with makeshift rope by your arms. your lip won’t stop quivering and you’re trembling more than a leaf in the wind.

“s-shauna,” you whimper, but she trails a finger up and down your spine.

“shhhh.”

shauna’s unwrapping you, like a present ready to be delivered. your revealing top slips off first, two holes roughly carved out on the areas where your nipples would be seen.

your pants rolls down your legs next. with your hands restrained and your body weak, you feel unable to fight back against shauna’s undressing. you’re not sure what she wants. you’re not sure if she wants to sacrifice you to the wilderness as some sort of food for the wilderness. the team’s got their meat supply. what could she possibly want?

either way, you assume the worst as you’re lead to the main area of the cabin. lottie has escorted everyone else outside, making sure that nobody is here to witness what you’re about to face. the first thought that comes to your mind is death. you’re dead. you’re done for. you should give a last kiss goodbye before you perish.

but shauna doesn’t have brutality when she pushes you to meet lottie. instead, she just tightly holds your back and whispers for you to calm down. shauna is hasty though, like she’ll get a beating if she doesn’t escort you to lottie at the speed of light.

shauna stops when her eyes meet lottie’s. her hand is gripping your hip and her other is cupping her chin, cooing at your little sniffles and tears of fear.

“bring them to me,” lottie orders softly. “you didn’t undress them fully.”

“i’m sorry my queen.” shauna lowers her head. “I forgot about their underwear. i promise it was an accident.”

“i’m not reprimanding you my little butcher.” lottie smirks. “i wouldn’t mind finishing the undressing myself.”

“what is happening?” you mumble under your breath, wishing you could decipher either of their intentions.

“don’t worry about it,” shauna reassures. “just go along with it. don’t be afraid.”

“g-go along with what?”

“shhh, don’t ask too much. don’t think about it too hard. just…do what lottie says. she’s gonna take care of you.”

lottie finishes the job, your underwear falling down as she removes it with ease. the fabric falls to your feet, your pussy exposed to the chilly air and lottie’s perverted gaze. you shiver, quickly scanning the room for a way out. but neither girl seems intent on giving you an escape relatively soon, not until you served your purpose at least.

“please…whatever I’ve done, im sorry.” you hope your apologies will bring back your autonomy and free will. right now, it feels clear that you’ve been deprived of both.

“this is a gift,” lottie murmurs, kissing down your unsteady legs. “god, so gorgeous. I’m glad you chose them, shauna.”

“only the best for you, my queen.” shauna bows and her hand roughly squeezes your ass cheek. “should they face the floor yet?”

“give me a moment to get a look at them,” lottie coos. “it’s not often that I’m greeted with such a ravishing little thing.”

thing? were you just an object to be played with? was your humanity now gone too? this was a sick joke, some sort of disgusting prank surely.

“they’ll be perfect for my cock.” lottie lines up kisses across your thigh.

“you’re not worried about them being too tight?” shauna smirks.

“I’m gonna make it fit,” lottie asserts. “i always do.”

shauna forces you to the ground on your back by lottie’s commands. she eyes your bare body hungrily, genuinely wanting a piece of the action. but she’s loyal to lottie and she wont start ravaging unless she’s given permission to. instead, she leers at you, eyes fixated on your sensitive nipples.

lottie drops to her knees, fishing her heavy cock out of her pants and slapping the head against your cunt. you’re on the verge of tears. but when you speak up, your voice is already cracked, like you’ve already been broken long before lottie had the chance to.

“need you so bad,” lottie mumbles. “fuck, you’re gonna feel perfect. i just know it. you were practically designed for me.”

“they sure were,” shauna agrees, sitting in anticipation as lottie’s tip teases your entrance.

“i want you to watch as i do this,” lottie says to her subordinate, shauna. “i want you to learn about taking what belongs to you. i want you to learn what it means to do something for the greater good of your peers. some things may be questionable at first glance, but sometimes we have to questionable things to save others.”

“i understand my queen,” shauna replies, eyes locked on your form. “I totally get it.”

“good.” lottie slams into you and you nearly lose your breath.

the thickness of lottie’s cock doesn’t help the sensation whatsoever. your belly feels like it’s burning and your pussy tightens whenever one of lottie’s cock veins rubs against your walls. your toes curl in agony, your hands struggling against the ropes securing them.

“shhh, such a good puppy,” lottie coos as her hips move. “taking me so good. am I too big for you, baby?”

“i think so,” shauna chuckles. “it’s cute to watch them struggle, though. nothing more appealing than being forced into submission.”

“it’s so silly too,” lottie says, shaking her head. “I’m giving them exactly what they need and they’re rejecting it only because it sounds scary at first. it’s a little sad, but nothing some training can’t fix.”

”n-no more,” you beg defeatedly. “n-no more, please. i can’t stand it.”

“does it hurt, baby?” lottie coos, her fingers now massaging your clit to alleviate some of the pain. “shh, you’re so tight around me. it’s so hard not to cum in you right away.”

anything but that. literally anything but that. you squirm like a worm in the dirt against your restraints, but your struggles are fruitless. you belong to shauna and lottie now. you’re just a present after all, a new pet for them to experiment on. they’d take care of you though. you just didn’t realize it yet.

“they feel so good,” lottie groans, eyes screwing shut and nails digging into your inner thighs. “fucking hell. I’m twitching.”

“you’re taking that big cock so good,” shauna praises. “look at how your pussy swallows it. you like the way it stretches your hole out?”

“oh it stretches all right,” lottie grunts. “fuck, you’re gonna make a perfect pet for me, baby. gonna be mine to use whenever i want? whenever i need some stress relief or entertainment?”

you don’t respond. you only sob quietly, accepting your future.

(sorry this one took so long i admit it was a work in progress for a bit!)

[little-raccoon-32]

Jealous

Pairing: Reader x Hotch (Criminal Minds)

Description: You have dinner with a district prosecutor after he promises to assist in the investigation of a killer. No big deal, right? Your boss certainly doesn’t seem to think so.

Reader is from the BAU. Younger woman/Older man. (Hotch gets jealous because he thinks he isn’t the older man in this scenario).

Gets a bit spicy at the end but not really explicit.

Inspired by the one scene from the show Younger. Props if you know what I’m talking about.

~*~

“Anything you want me to hand off to the chief, Pen?” You asked Garcia gently as you peeked into her office.

It was nearly midnight, but a late night at the Bureau was hardly unusual. Neither was your shyness to confront such a man like your boss.

The reason was the only thing that was slightly different.

Perhaps you were just trying to avoid the inevitable by asking Garcia (who pretty much did everything digitally anyways) if she needed anything done.

The blonde peeked up from her computer and smiled. “Nope,” she chirped, “Not yet at least. Just trying to finish up some loose ends.”

You nodded, almost disappointed. “Mhm. Got it. Have a good night then.”

“You, too, Hon!” She waved you off.

With a final goodbye, you clenched your Manila folders tightly and walked through the empty office where even Spencer had already gone home.

Only three people left.

You stood outside your boss’s door, unconsciously fixing your appearance. It was always nerve racking to be in front of such a handsome specimen - that man in particular.

Even since you first met him, you felt like a shy schoolgirl crushing on her teacher. Unfortunately, him being your boss and all, that wasn’t so far off from the truth.

But now you’re nervous for a whole other reason.

The team was working on a case, a serial killer, which was the usual. What was unusual was the suave, new district prosecutor who was ready to fight tooth and nail to help with the investigation.

You were pleasantly surprised at him being… actually oddly pleasant.

He was into the classics, funny yet also sweet. Not to mention he was rather handsome despite being several years older than you - Penelope gushed about that part. A true silver fox. (Meow~ as she added).

You liked him - but not the way he seemed to like you.

When you met him with the rest of the crew, he made sure to shake everyone’s hand. But when he got to you, he slowed down, staring at you in an almost surprised manner.

You offered up a tight lipped but sweet smile. He shook your hand, gaze and tone softening as he introduced himself to you.

It reminded you of when you first met Hotch. Only when your boss shook your hand, you almost collapsed on the spot.

When he held your hand for what seemed to be a bit too long, Hotch cleared his throat. “I believe there’s something you wanted to speak to us about,” he said firmly.

The prosecutor blinked and nodded, quickly leading the team into a meeting room with a cordial smile.

Throughout the case, this man and you shared a few nice conversations, even a few jokes. He was good company.

But out of the corner of your eye, you could almost always see your older boss watching you both like a hawk.

You’re a profiler - it’s literally your job to pick up on cues. But God forbid you be naïve so you wouldn’t even entertain the thought of him being jealous.

No, not the handsome, stoic, can simply roll up his sleeves and get any girl or far more experienced, confident, and put together woman than you.

(Seriously, those forearms of his are the equivalent to a medieval woman showing off her ankles).

Then the prosecutor asked you to dinner - a date.

At first you were unsure. After all, how could you be on a date without mourning the fact it wasn’t your boss across from you?

But he politely insisted, winking while saying he’d make your case the top priority in a light manner. Plus, he insisted on it being casual. So you took the bribe. Free food was free food and he promised to pay the check.

At least he was hot. (Daddy vibes as Penelope very helpfully added).

And admittedly… it was nice! You enjoyed it even - but more as a friend than a potential romantic partner.

But the life of a profiler is never smooth sailing and… well… Rossi happened to be meeting up with an old friend there as well - bringing Hotch as a plus one.

You’ll never forget meeting his eyes from across the dimly lit room. It was embarrassing, scandalous even.

You felt like a kid caught with their hand stuck in a cookie jar.

You desperately wanted to curl up and disappear. But apparently Hotch was a sadist as he approached the table in unfairly, cool, confident strides.

He looked almost angry, an idea confirmed to you when Rossi raised his whiskey glass in the air towards you with a smirk as if to say good luck.

“Y/N.”

“H-Hotch,” you nearly choked out.

Your date blinked but smiled. “What a surprise, chief. Hope you don’t mind me stealing one of your agents, do you?” He joked with a laugh, but when Hotch remained stoney faced, he quickly shut up.

“You’re having dinner… with the district prosecutor,” Hotch observed in an eerily calm manner.

His eyes were intense, staring right into your soul, particularly daring you to lie - but to also tell the truth as well.

Gulping a bit, you nodded slightly like an ashamed child. “Yeah. Uhm… y-yeah.” You mumbled awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

You watched as his jaw tensed, his eyes roaming your formal wear. “Right…” he said, “You look… nice,” he added.

“Oh. T-Thank you,” you smiled at him brightly. Your actual date had said the same thing, but frankly, Hotchner’s words meant so much more.

Hotch looked over at your date once more, a look of disdain in his eyes before turning back to you. “I apologize for interrupting,” your boss nodded towards you, “call me if you need me,” he forced out before walking back into the awaiting arms of Rossi.

Your date whistled. “Well that was a surprise. I didn’t know a person could be so intense,” he chuckled.

You forced out a tight lipped smile. “Yeah…” you mumbled, no longer that much hungry anymore.

“Actually, we’ve got a long day tomorrow and… you know, we should probably get some sleep,” you said, ignoring the guilt bubbling in your gut.

The prosecutor, albeit slightly disappointed, agreed and paid the check, him insisting on giving you a ride home.

You agreed. Unfortunately, as you walked out of the restaurant, your boss’s eyes followed with every step.

So that lead you to now, in front of your boss’s door, needing to simply give him a report but feeling like he was giving you a death sentence.

He was likely questioning your professionalism.

Sighing, you knocked on his door, only receiving a curt “come in” in reply.

You hesitantly opened the door, entering meekly as Aaron barely spared you a glance, not saying anything as he continued scanning the file in front of him.

“I finished the report you asked for,” you informed weakly. “Put it on my desk. Thanks,” he said.

Your eyes widened slightly. You knew him to be a no-nonsense man, but… he always seemed to treat you a bit more sensitively than the others. More gentle.

Perhaps that was because of your younger age but Reid wasn’t much younger than you and Hotch treated him like he was an annoying little orphan who clung to an older, grumpy man for a parental figure.

You did as he said, quickly putting the report on the edge of his desk and backing up. “Is there… anything else I can do for you, sir?” You mumbled unsurely.

This time, Hotch refused to even glance up. “No. Go home and get some rest,” he ordered blankly.

Once more, you blinked in surprise before furrowing eyebrows slightly.

It didn’t take a profiler, much less a genius, to tell something was bothering him - and you were almost 90% sure on what this was about.

“Is this about my date?” You asked bluntly, a burst of confidence taking even you by surprise.

Finally, Hotch looked up at you, taking a deep breath and leaning back against his chair with a blank look. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been… excuse me for saying this, petty since you saw me with that prosecutor. Why? Do you think it’s unprofessional or something?” You questioned, getting a bit riled up in the heat of the moment.

Hotch sighed. “It may not be the best look, but you’re a grown woman and you can make your own choices,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant but definitely sounding more irritated.

“…You sound angry.”

“Angry?” Hotch said, his put-together composure cracking. And frankly, good.

He stood up from his chair and let out a tired, almost pained sigh. “Angry? Yeah. Angry, stressed, annoyed, tired,” he paced the floor behind his desk, running his hand through his hair.

“You had dinner with a district prosecutor, so what?” He said more so to himself than you.

Hotch suddenly turned to you. “Are you dating him now? Was was it about him then?” He asked suddenly, making you feel like a victim of his brutal interrogations.

“W-What?” You shivered out. Hotch rubbed his temples, taking a deep breath before throwing his arms down at his side. “Damn it,” he cursed.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at your boss with wide, cautious eyes trying to remain calm. “I just think… you shouldn’t make a judgement before you know all the facts…”

Aaron Hotchner took yet another deep breath, slightly pacing back and forth once more. As he spoke, he seemed to only get angrier while taking a few steps closer to you.

“You’re right. I don’t know. I don’t know how we’re going to get this new unsub, I don’t know what I’m going to do about Strauss breathing down by neck, and I don’t know why you’re dating an older man in the criminal justice system who isn’t ME!”

…

The world seemed to pause for the both of you.

Your eyes were wide in shock as you stared in silence. Not only had the usually composed and stoic chief Hotchner just went low-key ballistic, but he also just confessed some kind of romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron huffed and brought himself back up to full height. He blinked at you, waiting for a response - expecting you to tell him off - when the door suddenly opened.

“Hey~!” Penelope greeted sweetly as she waltzed through the door with a smile. You and Aaron only had the brain capacity to spare her a glance.

The quirky woman got in between you, but not so to obscure your vision of each other. “Sorry to interrupt but I finished these papers and I really want to go home now. I mean, beauty sleep and all,” she laughed as she placed the stack of papers over Hotch’s desk.

Penelope backed up with a simple grin, looking between you and Hotch, waiting for a reply. He only murmured a stiff ‘thank you’ as both of you avoided eye contact.

The woman blinked before her own eyes went wide. “Oh… OH. Oh, I am so, so sorry,” Penelope babbled as she backed up to the door. “I-I’m just gonna… go. Pretend I wasn’t even here, okay?” She said as she reached the door, giving you a quick thumbs up before likely scurrying away.

You and Hotch continued to stand across from each other, unable to speak or even meet the other’s gaze.

Finally, Aaron spoke with a sigh. “So…” he mumbled, realizing the extensive HR visit he may soon be receiving.

“So…?” You echoed back, “what now?” You drew out slowly.

The man closed his eyes, messaging the bridge of his nose before finally, finally turning his gaze to you.

“Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and… we can forget all this ever happened… mostly for my sake,” he muttered the last part.

You turned your eyes towards the floor for a minute. Perhaps it was his confession that a sudden burst of confidence erupted but eventually you managed to speak up.

“I can’t do that…” You whispered softly as Hotch peeked up at you from the hand covering his face. “Aaron, I… I want you but… is… this even allowed?” Probably not.

But hearing your own confirmation, Hotch stepped forwards. “Y/N. I don’t even care.”

With that, he practically rushed you (not that you were complaining) and fiercely, with only a fierceness of a man barely able to keep a lid on his desires, pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

Your bodies molded against each other perfectly, one of his large hands cradling the back of your head to assist in keeping your lips to his. His other arm wrapped around you to eliminate any dreaded, unnecessary and unwanted space between the two of you that had long outstayed its welcome.

One of your own arms came to wrap around his neck encouragingly as your opposite hand rested on the side of his face, his faint stubble brushing against your palm.

In a tangle of limbs, he moved you around and back against the desk until your bottom was atop of the dark wood.

In an almost cruel but necessary manner, Aaron pulled away from your lips for a moment. “Say you don’t want this and I’ll stop.”

“Please don’t,” you nearly begged him (but hey, why have shame when this absolute specimen of a man was caging you in?) “Aaron, I want you. I really do.”

Aaron huffed and desperately loosened his tie, throwing it uncaringly somewhere in the room. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear that from you,” he said before locking lips once more to your delight.

~*~BOUNUS~*~

“The ship has sailed, I repeat, the ship has sailed!” Penelope squealed as she crouched ‘stealthily’ outside Hotch’s office.

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s sailed, babygirl?” Derek questioned worriedly over the phone, the grogginess of sleep leaving his voice.

“The USS (Y/N)ner! Oh my god, I can the desk moving…!” Penelope babbled in near manic delirium of joy.

Derek dragged a hand over his face. “No kidding… it happened?”

“It finally happened!” Penelope squealed once more, “My ship has left the port,” she said before going dead silent at a sudden noise of pleasure behind the wall she was crouched next to.

“Was that…?”

“Oh my God, they’re wasting no time whatsoever. Y/N, you go girl!”

“Damn,” Derek breathed out as those certain noises only got louder. Seems they forgot Garcia was there… again.

Penelope gasped. “It’s getting spicy~…” she said.

“Babygirl, get outta there.”

“I know, I know.”

“Penelope, now!”

“I’m going!”

“Guess we’re getting new HR buddies.”

~*~

Just a little one shot because Hotch is unfairly pretty and the Younger TV series really works with this pairing. Hope you enjoyed. 👍

[holyhadesimweird]

the butterfly effect

photo from rorokonaa on twitter

captain curly x reader

trigger warnings : mentions of attempted sa/abuse (not really specified) and jimmy

summary : a butterfly effect in which curly steps up the moment he can after finding out something happened to you, causing the events of the game to never happen.

note : i have not written fanfic in many years, i'm so sorry and this is warning my writing may be dogass still or even worse than it was before. anyways, enjoy!

the moment anya speaks your name when informing him something happened to one of the crew mates, he runs. his heart has never beat so fast in his life, curly thinks he may die if he doesn't reach you.

as he runs to the cockpit, curly's mind races to an image of what anya's face looked like when she told him something happened to you. that bruise on her face scared the shit out of him.

was jimmy a bad man this entire time? after knowing him for so many years curly wants to doubt it, but the image of anya and knowing you were in danger because of jimmy doesn't allow him to even doubt that jimmy is a horrible man.

as he runs, daisuke and sawnsea see him and decide to run after him. neither of them are fast enough to keep up with curly's desperate running and are left behind.

curly can hear jimmy yelling and your sobs as he approaches the cockpit, making him push forward and into the cockpit when the door opens.

"what did you do to her?!" curly yells as he pushes jimmy away from your curled up frame in the corner of the room.

"nothing at all captain, i came to check on her-" jimmy is cut off as curly's fist makes contact with his jaw.

"bull-fucking-shit you liar. anya came directly to me after you hit her and i could hear you yelling at her. if you move, i will kick your teeth in." curly threatened.

it was at this moment daisuke and swansea's footsteps could be heard approaching the cockpit. as they reached the doorway, anya' lighter footsteps could be heard as well.

"what in the fuck is happening?" swansea questions.

"swansea, pick him up and take him to the kitchen. do not let him out of your sight until i come see you. daisuke, stay with him and watch too." curly orders.

"but curly-" jimmy tries.

"no, we're gonna talk about what you did. there will be a punishment." curly states as swansea grabs jimmy, not saying a word as him and daisuke take him to the kitchen.

"thank you for helping. i- i- didn't know what else to do." anya says quietly, kneeling down beside you. your sobs have quieted down but it broke curly's heart seeing you like this.

"thank you so much curly, i owe you so much. he- he kept trying to do things to me but i kept fighting and he hit me again right before you came in. i think he-" you rambled.

"listen to me, you don't owe me anything. i'll kick his teeth in before he goes near you again. i'm so sorry he-." curly kneels. he takes your hand and anya quietly gets up to leave for you two to have a moment alone.

"i was so scared i was going to lose you. i'm so sorry this happened and i wish i could go back in time to protect you. i'm here now and i won't let anything else happen to you. you're the most important thing to me and i can't bear losing you." curly rushes and stands up. "i'm going to make things right."

anya is stood outside of the room and makes her way inside to stay with you as curly marches towards the kitchen.

once he arrives in the kitchen he can see that swansea and daisuke have tied up jimmy who is yelling and trashing against the ropes. making his way to where they all are, curly decided on what to do.

"shut up and listen to me jimmy. you do not deserve to be free after this. you will be locked, barricaded, i don't care, in your room until this job is finished. it does not matter that pony express is kicking the can, because you'll be rotting right along with them in prison when we get back on earth. i'll make sure of it." curly spits out to jimmy.

"you don't deserve to be captain, i was going to be the hero in this story and you ruined it! i had a plan!" jimmy exclaims. "i was going to-" jimmy was cut off as swansea stands up from where he was sitting.

"you're insane. daisuke, come help me." swansea says eerily calmly.

when curly finally finds you after locking jimmy up in his room and leaving daisuke and swansea to guard. you're in your quarters, on your bed sleeping with anya sitting next to you, clearly on edge as she jumps when curly enters your room.

"thank you anya, for everything." curly says, offering her a smile and a hug.

"she's my friend and you both mean the world to me. when i realized i wouldn't be able to fight him off and help her, i knew i had to get help. i wish i could've done more." she says.

"you did your best and did the right thing. without you, who knows what could've happened. i'm just extremely sorry i didn't believe you at first when you tried warning me about him." he thanks and apologizes.

"i'll leave you two alone. goodnight captain."

curly takes a seat where anya was sitting and takes your hand.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

"curly? curly!"

curly swears he hears someone call his name and blinks awake. the sight in front of him is other worldly and he wants to bask in it forever. you look beautiful despite everything that happened recently and he's happy to see you smiling at him.

"hey big man. thank you for protecting me, i don't know how to thank you. anya told me what you did with..... him. thank you." you thank him.

"it's the least i could do. you're important to me and i would do anything for you." he says sincerely. "...listen, i don't want to ruin this, but i have to go check on something in the cockpit. i'll be right back."

"of course, i can join you for the walk. but i might have to stay behind a little bit." you say.

"that is perfectly fine. we can go at your pace. i have to keep an eye on the controls for the next day, autopilot detected a possibility of needing course correction. let's go make sure we don't crash."

grabbing your hand, you and curly slowly but surely make your way to the cockpit to contact the company and to correct the autopilot route.

.:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:..:.:.:.

it takes time, but by the end of the tulpar's journey, you are able to navigate the entirety of the ship without being scared.

you and curly become closer and he attempts to have a romantic dinner with you to ask you to be his significant other, but it doesn't go according to plan. however, you two love joking and talking about how the night you became an official couple.

having jimmy on the ship is hard for the entire crew for the rest of the journey, but when landing on earth and seeing law enforcement ready to take jimmy away, it feels like a weight has been lifted from the entire crew.

[alotofpockets]

Between kicks | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Pregnant!Reader

5k celebration prompt: “Did the baby just kick?”

Warnings: pregnancy, preterm labour, emergency c-section

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.2k

-----

Pregnancy was a new experience for both you and Kyra. A whole new world opened for the both of you, learning so much from your family and friends who have kids themselves. You were grateful for having so many people around you that helped the two of you on your journey to parenthood, you wouldn’t know what you would be doing without all of their helpful tips and insights.

A few weeks ago you and Kyra had sat down in the room that you were going to convert into the nursery. Discussing what you would like the theme for the room to be. Scrolling through pinterest, showing each other things you liked and disliked. 

“Any colour scheme you’d like to go with?” You had asked Kyra, as you had seen so many ideas that you no longer knew what to look for anymore. Kyra looked around the room, deep in thought about your question. 

“What about green and yellow?” She asked with a hopeful undertone. “Matildas colours?” You asked, and you watched her smile grow. “Yeah, you know since we live here in the UK, maybe it would be nice to have a little bit of my home in the room.” You didn’t need any convincing, but loved the thought she had put behind the choice. “I love it. Green and yellow it is.”

Once your friends had finished painting the room for you, the two of you had taken over again. Kyra was assembling the baby furniture while you were washing and folding all the baby clothes you had bought so far. Neither one of you could stop yourselves when you saw something cute at the store, so you definitely had more than enough clothes already, including a couple baby jersey’s of course.

After another little shirt was folded, you felt something move in your belly. You move your hand to your belly and wait to feel it again. There it was again, a soft kick to your hand. Your eyes welled up, this was the first time you had felt your baby move. “Ky, come here quick!” You said excitedly. 

Kyra rushed to your side. “Is everything okay?” You smiled through the tear that was rolling down your cheek, “Yeah, just wait.” With your free hand, you lift up Kyra’s and lay it down on your belly where you had just felt the baby.

It took a moment, but then you felt it again. “Did the baby just kick?” Kyra asked. Her eyes widen when you nod. “Yeah, I think he likes the room already.” With a content smile your wife looks over the room, “Great taste, little man.” 

The pregnancy was going great, all the appointments went smoothly. Every scan showed a happy and healthy baby, so when the conversation about Kyra’s upcoming national camp came up, you were quick to convince her to go. “Darling, we are perfectly healthy and we still have three months to go before the expected delivery date. Let them know you’re available to go, please.” Kyra had said she shouldn’t go, that she shouldn’t leave you while you were pregnant, but you tried convincing her to go. There was still plenty of time in the pregnancy, and you had enough people around you to help out.

It took a lot of convincing, but eventually she gave in and let the coach know that she would be available for selection. Not soon after her call-up had come. She wanted to leave you completely taken care of, so she prepared everything that she could and made sure there were friends and family there to check up on you.

“I’m going to miss you both so much.” She said as she hugged you goodbye and then knelt down to kiss your belly. “Take care of your mama, little one.” She whispered. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

A week of texts, and quick video calls went by while Kyra was training with the team in Australia. She was constantly checking up on you, to the point where you had jokingly asked Steph who was in the background to confiscate Kyra’s phone so she could focus on her job. It was all out of love though, so you couldn’t really be annoyed at her for caring so much.

You had your mom over for lunch, and she’d stay to watch Kyra’s game with you. She had never cared much for football herself, but grew to love it with every game of Kyra’s you had dragged her to watch with you over the years.

While you were cleaning up after yourselves in the kitchen, all of a sudden you stopped talking mid sentence. Your mom turned around, “What’s that, darling?” She asks, thinking she misheard. But when she turns around she sees the panicked look on your face.

Your right hand is on your lower belly, while with your left you hold onto the counter like your life depends on it. Your knuckles white from how tightly you are gripping it. A sharp pain shoots through your belly, and your mom notices you turning pale. “I’m here, baby.” She steps forwards and helps to hold you up right. 

“Mom, something is wrong.” You say before even noticing that you’re bleeding. It started slowly but then there was a lot of blood. Your mom was quick to help you to the ground and called 911. 

Everything moved so fast. The last thing you faintly remember hearing is “Thirty weeks pregnant, heavy vaginal bleeding, vitals unstable. ETA ten minutes.” Before your eyes drift close.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, the Matildas had just kicked off. It was the first match of international break, and Kyra was excited to get her first touches back with the Matildas. For the first time since she left, she wasn’t worried about you and the baby, her full focus was on football.

Not even ten minutes into the match, Clare Wheeler started warming up. It got some weird looks from the fans in the stadium, and a couple of confused faces on the pitch, but everyone went with it. The coaches knew what they were doing.

The next time that the ball went out of bounds, Clare got up to make the substitution. Kyra heard her name being yelled, and right away she knew something was wrong. She ran to the side and knew her instincts were right when she saw the look in Clare’s eyes as she quickly high fived her.

“Are they okay?” Kyra asked the coach instantly as she stepped off. The coach put an arm around her and guided her into the tunnel instantly. Just getting Kyra away from the crowd. “We just got a call from your mother in law. Y/n is being rushed to the hospital. Right now we don’t know a lot, just that both your wife and the baby need immediate medical attention.”

Kyra’s heart was beating like crazy, this couldn’t be happening while she was on the other side of the world. Why did she let you talk her into going, she should be by your side. “We’ve got you a ticket for the first flight out. If you leave now, they should be able to hold the plane on the ground for you.” 

The coach urged her to move towards the locker room to quickly grab her stuff. While one of the other staff members was getting her car to drive her to the airport. They told her not to worry about the rest of her stuff, that they would send it along with Steph and Caitlin, they just wanted Kyra to be with her family as soon as possible. Especially since the flight was so long. They made sure she got wifi so she could stay updated, and she was taking full advantage of that, constantly checking in with her mother in law. 

It wasn’t until a few hours into the flight that Kyra got the update that you were out of surgery. She read over the message a hundred times. “They’re both okay. She’s out of surgery, and resting now. They had to perform an emergency c-section because the baby was in distress, but your little boy is strong. He is in the NICU being monitored.”

She cursed herself for missing the birth of her baby, but ultimately was grateful that the both of you were doing okay. She wiped away a tear, not wanting to cry in a full plane. Now that she had gotten this update, she knew she had to get some sleep in to make this flight go by faster. She texted your mom to let her know if anything changes, and that she would leave her phone on for any news.

After seemingly the longest flight of her life, Kyra finally arrived back in the Uk and quickly took an Uber to the hospital.

Kyra basically sprinted through the hospital to find your room. When she entered you were sitting up in the bed slightly, still connected to a bunch of monitors and an IV. Tears sprung in her eyes again. Without saying a word she stepped all the way to the side of your bed and hugged you tight. Your mom stepped out of the room to give the two of you a moment. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” Kyra whispered. You smiled at her weakly, “Yeah, me too.” Kyra sat down on the edge of the bed and put her hands on yours. “I should have been here, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t.” You’re quick to shake your head, “Don’t be. Neither one of us knew this was going to happen. The doctor’s said that sometimes it just happens, and there is no underlying reason why. I’m okay and our little man is too, I’m just glad you’re here with us now.” You squeezed her hand lightly.

“I’m sorry you had to miss your match, I know you were looking forward to it.” Kyra chuckled, “I think I will get over that a lot quicker than missing my baby's birth.” To lighten the mood, you added, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I missed it too. I mean I was there but not consciously.”

“Have you seen him yet?” Your wife asks. “Only through pictures and videos mom showed me. I haven’t been strong enough to head to the NICU until my last check up thirty minutes ago, and since I knew you were close, I wanted to wait and meet our little man together.”

So, that’s what you did. Kyra pushed your wheelchair to the NICU, with your mom in tow, filming every moment. As you rounded the corner, there was a nurse waiting to guide you to your baby. “He’s been waiting to meet his mamas.” She said as you arrived. 

You look into the incubator to see him for the first time. He looked impossibly small, but his chest was rising and falling steadily. He has a few sensors tucked away between the blankets to monitor him, as well as a tiny nasal cannula to help his breathing. But those weren’t the things you were focussing on, your focus was on his perfect little face, his tiny hands gripping the blanket, and his tongue moving around his lips. “He’s perfect.” Kyra whispered in awe.

“Would you like to hold him?” The nurse asked. You didn’t even need a second to think about it, of course you wanted to hold him. 

The nurse carefully took him out of the incubator and adjusted his wires as she laid him into your arms. Everything you had been worried about faded away a little as you got to hold him. You cradled him to your chest, Kyra laying her hand on his back as her forehead was touching yours. 

The already perfect moment became even more perfect when he left out a content sigh. Hearing him like that warmed your heart and made you fall in love with him even more. 

As much as you wanted to keep holding him, the position you had to sit in to do so wasn’t entirely comfortable after your surgery, so it was quickly Kyra’s turn to hold him. She sat down on a chair next to you, and the nurse helped to move him to his other mom.

You reached out your hand to move your finger over his tiny cheek, and then down to his shoulder, arms and his hand. On instinct he wrapped his hand around your finger, bringing out a smile to your face.

“Did you pick out a name yet?” Your mom asks, with her phone still recording the three of you. You and Kyra shared a look, there had been a few on your list that you liked, but the moment that you had seen him, you had known exactly which one you thought best fit him. Kyra nods, and you both turn to your mom again. “Oliver.” You said at the same time, your smile growing that you had the exact same feeling.

-----

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[lovelytsunoda]

let me go | jake seresin

summary: jake is twenty years old and about to ship off for his first assignment in the us navy. he thinks his girlfriend deserves better, but she's here to tell him just how wrong he is

pairing: jake seresin x childhood sweetheart! reader

warnings: angst, based on the song 'let me go' by christian kane, cliffhanger ending because i'm evil like that, spoiler: accidental pregnancy

author's note: i usually don't listen to country music but i caught a rerun of my favorite 'leverage' episode the other day and remembered this song existed, and the fic wrote itself from there

Jake Seresin's Ford Ranger was parked as close to the edge of the cliff that you could get without being a danger to yourself and others. The view over the grassy cliff and into the turquoise water of the bay around Stacey's Point was to die for, but neither was focused much on the water. The lighthouse stood proud behind them, occasionally swinging around the illuminate their bodies.

The pair had spent many a night at this point, perfect in the late spring and early fall, free of the tourists that flocked to the Point's picturesque shores. In mere weeks the town would be overrun, college boys tripping over each other for lifeguard jobs that would allow them to show off their muscles to any tourist girl in a ten mile radius.

They lay in the back of the truck, Jake's letterman jacket over her shoulders. She was too good for him, he thought to himself as he nuzzled into her neck, gently sucking a hickey. At her quiet moan, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart.

How could he possibly say goodbye? Walk away from the best thing that had ever happened to him? The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.

"Sugar, there's something I need to talk to you about."

She pulled away from him, pulling his ratty old football jacket tighter around her shoulders. "Talk to me, Seresin. What's going on?" She always had been good at reading him, understanding him the way that nobody else could.

Jake sighed, averting his eyes. "I got my marching orders today. They want me in Fort Worth by the end of the month."

There was silence for a long stretch, and then he felt her warm hand engulfing his. "We'll figure it out. Jake, when you first enlisted I told you I was in it for the long haul. That's not going to change."

Jake shook his head. Why couldn't she get it? "You've got another year of college to go, sweetheart. You have a future. You have parents that love you. What do I have? I have a chequing account with ninety-three dollars in it, and this old fucking truck."

YN's face fell. "That doesn't change anything. I've heard Texas is beautiful this time of year. We can go long distance until I'm finished school, and then I can meet you in Fort Worth. Jake, we can make this work."

"No we can't. Haven't you been listening? You've got it good here. Don't throw it away on me, you're just going to get hurt in the end."

Anything could happen to him while he was in the air. Injuries, dismemberment, death.

Whatever happened to him, he couldn't put her through that.

Red-faced and with his head in his hands, Jake got up from the back of the truck and started pacing along the dry grass.

"Why are you so eager to give up on me, Jake? Do you want to know what I think?" She shouted, trying to get him to look at her. "I think you're scared. You're not as strong ad you think you are, and I think you're scared to be in love. I think this is the realest relationship you've ever been in, and you're trying to sabotage it because you don't think you deserve to be happy."

She was right. She was right and they both knew it.

A lot of people had let Jake Seresin down in the long run. Teachers, friends, the adults of Stacey's Point. His own father had wasted no time in telling Jake that he wouldn't be smart enough to get to college on his own, and that he'd need a football scholarship to get there. Low and behold, Jake hadn't been good enough at football either. He'd seen the military as his only chance.

"You deserve better than me, YN. You deserve someone stable, someone who can always be there for you."

He'd thought it through, he kept telling himself. Breaking her heart now would be better for both of them in the long run.

"You're being ridiculous. I want you, Jake." She pleaded, one hand over her stomach through the thin linen of her pinstriped dress. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and she could feel the heavy pressure in the back of her throat.

"God knows why." He snorted back a laugh. "I'll only break your heart down the road. You're better off without me."

"Don't fucking say that!" Her voice cracked. "Why can't you see that I love you?"

"I love you too, YN, but I'll never forgive myself if something happens to me while I'm out there, and you get left alone to pick up the pieces." Jake's voice was firm as he sank to his knees in the soggy grass, taking one of her hands in his. There was a wild desperation in his eyes, pleas in his voice. "So please, just let me let you go. It's better that way."

She shook her head, tears beginning to track down her cheeks. She couldn't do that, for more reasons than one "I can't, Jake."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm pregnant."

[lostintransist]

Hell's Spawn | House Cat

Part 1 | AO3

It had been two weeks since you had seen any of them. This is not too unusual; so far, they have tended to disappear for between a few weeks and a few months.

When one of them did appear next it surprised you which one arrived. Deep in the walk-in, you had been putting away a delivery. Getting the new food put away required a lot of shifting so that the oldest items to the front. This delivery had arrived late, nearly ten pm and you were finally getting a chance to put it all away nearing twelve am. The bell ringing brought you from the chilled box.

Nikto stepped in the door, beanie pulled low and turtleneck and mask covering everything but the sliver of his eyes. You wonder if he would cover those too, Krueger did it.

Heavy boot treads deposit him at the counter to stare up at the menu.

“I know your order. Go and sit. I’ll bring it out in a moment,” you call from the back.

He shakes his head without glancing at you. His eyes are trained on the menu when you duck back into the chiller to finish your task. Nikto could wait. If other patrons appeared the job would need to wait. Another six or so minutes saw you free of the refrigerator and you were blowing your nose and washing hands before stepping back into view.

Your eyes land on him first. Damn, man is fit if nothing else. He isn’t beefy like König or Krueger. Neither did his height stretch his muscles. Nikto didn’t need more distance from the bottom of his boots. All the muscle you can see through his fitted sweater is fit and appealing.

Stepping up behind the cash register you lift a brow.

“Not wanting black coffee today?”

“No,” his voice is harsh but soft as if his vocal cords had been injured, “Your favorite.”

“My favorite?” Your face reacts without you as your brows lift.

He nods once, eyes drifting over every bit of you he can see over the counter.

“Sure,” shrugging as you tap in the blended chai with two shots of espresso.

Could never admit it to your boss but you didn’t like coffee all that much. Learning to get past the taste of it had been a critical step to passing so many classes as fast as you did but you would rather have a light cup of tea.

Setting the price and sending it through to charge his card you turn from the machine. Nikto doesn’t wait for an invitation to join you behind the counter, fingers drifting across the counters you cleaned recently.

“Quit touching, I will be done in a moment,” you snapped at him as you pulled out everything you needed for his drink.

When you had his drink all settled turning found him touching the counters, again.

A quick hiss and his blue eyes snapped to yours.

“If you can’t quit touching go sit,” pointing to the chair you lift your brows at him.

Once Nikto sat you crossed the small kitchen to hand him his drink and a straw. He took the cold drink in his gloved hands. Leaving him to his own devices you start on cleaning. While possible for more people to arrive cleaning up tables and the bathroom were good parts of closing duties that are easier if they need to be repeated.

Simon, one of your boss’ men, popped open the front door at nearly one-thirty am. Popping out the headphone in your ear you gift him a smile from between the tables, a couple more swipes and you would be done with that section of mopping.

“Hi Simon, what’s up?”

“Johnny said he forgot a book here today, any chance you’ve seen it?”

“Yeah should be on the staff counter in the back.” Pushing the mop bucket into the kitchen to the cleaning supplies you leave your focus on not letting the water spill.

“Why is he in the corner?”

The lack of any intonation in his voice told you that Simon had caught sight of Nikto.

“House cat wouldn’t stay off the counter,” you reply as you dump the water and prepare to turn it on again to mop the kitchen.

“House cat? More like a big cat.” Simon remarked, eyeing Nikto up with a knowing gaze.

You don’t spare either man locked in a death stare a glance. If you had you would have seen Nikto promising death to Simon if the big man fucked up his chance to spend more time with you. You would have also seen Simon assessing your level of danger and gotten more suspicious when he determined that the soldier that claimed no comfort would heel at your command.

“Mmm, I’m pretty sure he would purr for me if I asked.”

Leaving the mop where it was you snag a box for the remaining pastries. Simon could always be counted on to take them home. Simon’s side eye caught you as you drifted past to box up the leftover food.

“What? Big cat’s chuff, they can’t purr.”

“Something is wrong with you,” he says, concern between his eyebrows.

“Meh, you don’t really have any space to talk. I’ve seen some of your scars. Most people don’t walk away after those.” Feet keep moving, drifting past him as he narrows his eyes at you.

Stacking the pastries neatly and closing the lid you turn and hand it to Simon who has also found Johnny’s art journal.

“Need anything else? After I mop in here Nikto is going to walk me out and head home himself.”

“No,” he drags the word out like he is contemplating how to prolong his time here.

“Good, switch the sign and lock the door on your way out won’t you?” Calling over your shoulder while you begin to mop the kitchen so you can finally go home and rest.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight.”

Simon is a man who has learned when to leave well enough alone. The bells chime as the door clicks shut and the lock slides home.

“Why make him leave?” The same rasping tones come from Nikto as before.

Keeping your focus on the mopping you tap his knee with a finger.

“Pull your feet up until the floor is dry.”

He does as you ask, hand shooting out to hold yours in his gloved ones. The leather is soft on your skin.

“Why?”

Glancing at him you lift a brow.

“Funny you think I can ‘make’ Simon do anything. He knows I can handle myself and that if I didn’t want you here I would ask him to remove you.”

Lifting and dropping one shoulder you pull your hand back, stepping past him to finish mopping.

“We would do anything for you,” Nikto’s words are almost too quiet to hear.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You miss the sharp twitch of Nikto’s body and how his eyes glaze over slightly as he is pulled more into his internal world to battle the demons in his mind.

When the last of the closing duties is complete you collect your things and wait at the back door. Nikto gets the message from a glance and springs to his feet. He opens the back door for you closes it, and then waits as you lock it. He repeats the process with the car.

Starting the engine you roll the window down.

“Get some rest Nikto, you seem tired.”

He stares at you, the darkness of the night nearly swallowing him whole. Only the blue of his eyes was visible, like a cat watching from beyond the door frame.

“Night.”

The raspy reply follows you all the way home.

Hell Masterlist | Masterlist

@demothers-empty-blog

[dreamy-crow]

You are a friend of Arisu, Karuba and Chota

English is not my native language, so there may be some mistakes. I apologize for that. This is not a full-fledged work, but rather a reflection on "what if they had another friend

[WARNING: blood, character death]

You became friends with Arisu, Karube, and Chota back in elementary school. One day, you witnessed two brave boys named Karube and Arisu standing up for a third boy, Chota, who was being bullied. This deeply impressed your younger self, and you made an effort to befriend them. Luckily, it worked out well as the boys were open to having a new friend. Your friendship lasted even after school, showing the strong emotional bond between you all.

You shared the most interests with Arisu and, since neither of you had jobs, you spent more time together. Sometimes, you and Arisu would tease Karube and Chota by sending selfies from a café where you were playing video games while they were working. In response, they teased you right back.

*You sent a selfie where, in the background, Arisu is playing a computer game.

You: How's your Monday going? We're busy with serious matters… like relaxing for both of you!

Chota: It's so sweet that you have so much free time to do this for us.

Karube: Chota, I have a theory about them.

You: ?

Chota: What is it?

Karube: They spend so much time together not just because they're unemployed but because they're secretly dating!

Chota: EXACTLY!

Karube: Your virginity, Chota, didn’t manage to infect them.

Chota: Hey!

You: Arisu, how do you block users in this app?

Arisu: I was going to ask you the same thing.

Chota is a very religious person thanks to his mother, so from time to time, when you're bored, you accompany him to one of the churches. After the church service ends, you usually go to a small shop to buy interesting new manga and read them together, discussing each character's actions.

Chota points to the distorted face of one of the characters.

—Look, that's you when something goes wrong, the young man says playfully.

—And that's you after your boss gets upset again.

Chota looks at the funny, exhausted face of the character and playfully hugs himself.

—If only you knew how scary he is during those times. I'm tired of him.He looks at you, and you sympathetically pat him on the shoulder.

One day, Karube approached you with an unusual level of concern, surprising you since you'd never seen him like that before. He came to you because he wanted to propose to his girlfriend, Emi. You knew he was dating his boss's girlfriend and had considered talking to him about it because, in that case, Karube was technically the "other man." However, you noticed how his eyes lit up when he talked about the girl he was deeply in love with. So, holding your tongue, you decided it was his business and trusted that he and Emi would figure it out themselves. He explained exactly what he needed from you: since you're a girl, you would know how to impress another girl, and because he noticed that your fingers are similar to Emi's, he needed you to tell him the size of your ring finger. After finishing your discussion, you sincerely hoped everything would go well for Karube.

A few days later, you were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying delicious dashi. You were browsing various job postings because you had decided to start earning money independently. Your phone started vibrating in your hands with a flood of new messages in your group chat of four. From this, you learned that Karube had been fired, Chota wanted to skip work today, and Arisu had argued with his father and left home. Everyone wanted to meet up. They were waiting for your reply, so you quickly typed a message saying you’d join them soon.

Half an hour later, all four of you stood together in the shade. You were quietly giggling at jokes about a zombie apocalypse and, overall, enjoying the warm atmosphere with your friends. Suddenly, Karube lifted Arisu onto his shoulders and began running carefully down the crowded street with him. Chota started recording a video on his phone, and you stayed close to your friends, ready to catch Arisu in case he fell. You didn't doubt Karube's strength, but extra caution wouldn't hurt. The laughter of everyone involved faded when you realized you were on a busy road. Cars were honking at you, and you tried to reach the other side of the street as quickly as possible, avoiding oncoming traffic.

You heard Chota say, "Look, there are fireworks over there!" But you didn’t turn your head, still focused on your goal. Once on the other side, you all agreed to duck into some restrooms to avoid the police. The three guys went into the men’s restroom, and you headed into the women’s.

The guys only wrote in the group chat that everything was fine, but you were distracted when the lights went out. You put your phone in your pocket and decided to step outside. There was no one around except you. You began calling loudly, "Karube! Chota! Arisu!" but no one answered, so you started searching the most likely places. However, Tokyo seemed frozen in time. Late at night, you returned to the road where you’d last been messing around with your friends. A bright light from a billboard caught your attention, mentioning some kind of game. Though cautious, you followed the directions to the indicated location.

Hope still filled your heart that you’d find your friends there. When you entered the building, you saw your friends and ran quickly toward them. They called your name and hugged you tightly.

—We were looking for you, but it was like you disappeared into thin air like everyone else.

Chota said quietly, disbelief in his eyes.

—Where were you?.

Karube’s voice was calm, but there was a hint of worry.

—Did you see anyone else? Do you know what happened?

Arisu was still holding your shoulders as if checking if you were real.

You didn’t get a chance to explain because another girl in a business suit entered. She explained that you wouldn’t be able to leave until you played the game. After her, a schoolgirl arrived, so all of you completed registration, and the "Life or Death" game began.

After the schoolgirl's death, you stayed close to Chota, patting each other’s backs for comfort. In the next round, you pulled Karube away from Arisu, squeezing the blonde man’s hand tightly to keep him from hitting your mutual friend again. Thanks to Arisu’s intellect, you managed to escape the game, but Chota suffered a severe burn.

By mutual agreement, Shibuki and Chota stayed in the shelter while you, Karube, and Arisu went to the next game to search for answers. During a minor argument between you and your friends, you went with Arisu because the boys didn’t want you to attack the man in the horse mask. However, even in the safe zone, there was trouble—if not for the short-haired girl as well as the man with white hair and his taser, you would have died.

You and Arisu were supporting Karube from both sides. The guy had a shallow wound on his side, but he refused to admit he needed help, even though it was obvious. When you returned to the shelter, you helped bandage his wound and stayed close to assist him if needed. The next morning, while everyone was still asleep, you decided to prepare food with the available supplies. Fortunately, there was a gas stove, so cooking wasn't a problem.

The guys immediately started eating breakfast, while Shibuki stood aside, unsure if she was allowed to join. Your gesture inviting her to sit down reassured her, and she joined you without hesitation.

You were worried about Chota: his visa was expiring today, and with an injured leg, he still had to participate in the game. During breakfast, Karube mentioned hearing about the "Beach."

—Let's look for a way there after today's game. Chota and I are out of time, so we can't delay this.

—All right, we'll all go to the game together today, you decided.

In the evening, billboards lit up again, announcing a new game. This time, the venue was Tokyo's botanical garden. Arisu was supporting Karube as they approached a door with a sign reading, "Only four players can participate in the game." This sparked a new debate: Chota and Shibuki had to play since their visas were expiring. Arisu wanted to opt out since his visa was still valid, but you and Karube insisted he participate. In past games, he was the one who guessed everything, so he's useful.

—Let me play. You have a wound that might cause you difficulties.

—Chota also has a wound.

—But his visa expires today, and you have it for a few more days.

—Everything will be fine, Arisu is with me, and you can sit here and wait for us.

—Karub!

However, he quickly went behind the door, which was locked. You have nothing left but to sit quietly and wait.

However, he quickly went behind the door, which was locked. You had no choice but to sit quietly and wait. From time to time, you looked excitedly at the construction of the Shinjuku Botanical Garden, you heard some screams of your friends, but you could not understand what they were saying. Anxiety was taking over you more and more. You wanted to see what was going on inside, but due to the dense vegetation you were unable to do so. You hugged yourself in your arms because of the cold of the summer night, you walked here and there outside, waiting for your friends and Shibuki to come out. With every minute, you were shaking more and more, either from the cold or from a bad premonition. Suddenly, everyone heard several explosions, they were similar to the ones you heard in the safe zone. Then there was a loud desperate scream. You took a stick, opened the door and threw it into the botanical garden. The laser did not penetrate its. You ran toward the screams, shouting the names of your friends:

- Chota! Arisu! Karube! Shibuki! Where are you?!

Your eyes began to gather cool moisture from the possible options, what could have happened. The sound was heard again, but this time it was not a scream, it was someone's loud sobs. You stopped, you didn't even have to breathe to determine the exact source of the sound. The sound came from the right side, so you rushed there without thinking. You saw that this cry belonged to Arisu. He was sitting on his knees, he had headphones and transparent glasses on his head, and there was fresh blood on his face and clothes.

—Arisu!

You quickly approached, sitting next to him, you carefully placed your hands on your friend's shoulders. With your eyes, you looked him over from head to toe with concern.

—Arisu, can you hear me? Where does it hurt? Are you injured? Where are the others?

Arisu was gasping for air, looking at one point, you took your hands off your friend's shoulders and turned completely in that direction. For a moment you forgot how to breathe, very close to both of you Karube lay motionless, and under him was a pool of blood. Your face was pale than any porcelain in the world. You still couldn’t breathe normally, hot tears were flowing down your cheeks, and your eyes were filled with pain and horror. You sobbed, which allowed Aris to finally notice you in this botanical garden. He hugged you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder and started crying harder, he whispered an apology, but you couldn’t hear him anymore. Arisu hugged you tighter. Feeling you in his arms, he remembered what Karube and Chota had told him a few minutes ago.

—Arisu, live for our sake and for y/n. You were all my best friends, I'm grateful to you.

Chota finally took his hand away from Shibuki's mouth, and she hugged him. They both cried because they knew these were their last moments.

—Arisu, when you get out of here, take care of yourself and y/n.

Karube smoked a little more.

—Turn your head, I'm here. Arisu, thank you.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter XII

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.179 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

I will never be able to top that Cain and Abel paragraph. Please mourn for my writing career. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

You can feel the vice grip of JJ’s hand pressing against your veins, your pulse thundering against him, growing faster with every failed attempt to wring yourself away.

– JJ, – You gasp, trying to twist yourself out of his hold, pulling, wringing, fruitlessly. He yanks you forward before you can finish, dragging you toward the bike.

Your breath catches.

– JJ, let go of me, you’re hurting me—

– Get on the bike. – He doesn’t yell it. His voice is tight, barely restrained, the kind of anger that isn’t meant to be loud—it’s meant to be a warning.

You shake your head, twisting against his hold. – You can’t drive like— You can’t— I can’t just leave—

– Yes, you can. – His grip tightens. – You will.

He’s pulling, and you’re fighting it—your heels digging into the pavement, the weight of your body thrown back, hand grasping at the grass like it can hold you back. You try to wrench your wrist free, but he’s so much stronger than you like this, fueled by something dark, barely controlled.

– Stop it! Please, just fucking stop it, JJ! What are you doing?! – Your voice cracks, desperate. – You’re acting crazy, just—let me go!

He doesn’t. Not for a second. His hand tightens, impossibly, against your arm and he tugs you forward with all his force until you crash against him, barely on your feet, your knees shaking.

– JJ—

– I swear to fucking God, – He growls, his voice a rumble something familiar, painfully so, something that makes your stomach turn. – if I have to tell you again—

You shake your head, thoughtlessly, maniacally. You can’t control the movement.

You don’t know what he’ll do if you refuse.

And that’s the problem.

Because neither does he.

JJ isn’t thinking. He isn’t here.

He’s someone else entirely. His mind is a blur. Whoever this person is, standing before you, wants nothing but to hurt you.

Your heart hammers as the reality sets in.

You could fight. But he'd beat you. You could hope for help. But there’s no one around to stop him. You could scream, but what good would it do if no one’s there to hear you?

And if you don’t do what he says?

He won’t leave.

Not until you get on that bike.

Barry’s bike.

Barry. 

Your heart stops.

Where is Barry? What did JJ do to him? Why didn’t he answer your calls? Did he take something else? Did he leave him, alone, somewhere, with nowhere else to go?

And if he doesn’t leave, if he keeps shouting like this, keeps grabbing you, demanding you go with him—

It’ll be worse.

So much worse.

Your job. Your safety. This sliver of security you're already clinging to by the skin fingernails.

You just barely escaped being fired. JJ isn’t above making a scene to teach you a lesson. He doesn’t care how much he hurts you when he’s like this.

The words get caught in your throat. You force yourself to swallow them down, along with everything else you want to say.

Your hands tremble as you reach for the seat.

JJ exhales like he’s been holding his breath. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t talk to you, doesn’t let go of his anger. Just swings his leg over the bike and nods toward the seat behind him. – Get on.

You hesitate, taking a step back without even thinking, like your body won't let you do this, and he snaps—one hand darting out, grabbing your wrist again, tugging you forward so violently you stumble.

Your stomach lurches.

You don’t want to do this.

But what choice do you have?

You climb onto the bike, your legs barely steady, your arms wrapped around him because you have nothing else to hold on to.

JJ barely gives you time to breathe before he guns it. The engine revs, roaring like a vicious animal. The bike lurches forward before you’re even ready. Your grip slips. Your balance wavers. For a split second, you’re weightless.

You slam against JJ’s back, your arms snapping around his waist on instinct, clinging tight as the bike rockets forward, faster than it should, faster than it ever should.

– JJ—!

The wind rips the word from your mouth.

Streetlights flash by in violent streaks of gold and red. The world blurs at the edges, sharp and endless and cruel, like you’ve been thrown into a nightmare that won’t stop shifting.

JJ doesn’t slow down. He doesn’t breathe. His body is tense, coiled too tight, a wire pulled so thin it can feel the incoming snap. His grip on the handlebars is white-knuckled, his back rigid beneath your grip.

The bike swerves.

Your stomach drops.

The road bends, but JJ doesn’t. He takes the turn too sharp, too recklessly, the tires skidding for half a second. Your whole body tilts, your knee nearly scraping asphalt.

You whimper, pressing yourself closer, fingers desperate as they grasp his clothes, knuckles aching from how hard you’re holding on.

– JJ—slow down!

He doesn’t.

The engine growls louder, vibrating beneath you, rattling in your bones, shaking in your chest like a second heartbeat.

He flies past a red light, too fast, too close, too dangerous.

A car blares its horn—loud, long, furious.

You choke on a scream, your whole body bracing for impact, for the crash, for the pain—

But nothing comes. Only the phantom of an accident growing within you, coiling inside your chest, tightening, painfully, building up a fear that already has you frozen, praying, waiting for death.

Terror crawls up your throat, sharp and cold.

– JJ, please, –  You gasp, voice cracking. – Please—just stop.

For a moment, you think he won’t.

For a moment, you think he’ll ride forever, until the world ends, until you both crash and burn.

Then, finally—finally—he eases off the throttle.

Not much.

Just enough to breathe again.

Just enough to make you realize you were barely breathing at all.

Your pulse roars in your ears.

The wind still slashes at your skin, the tires still groan against the pavement, but the speed—the nightmare speed—has lessened.

Your fingers ache from gripping too tight. Your lungs burn from holding back screams.

And just then, just when you feel the burn in your throat, your lungs, your eyes, retreat, when your arms loosen the slightest bit, when you nearly relax, he sinks his foot on the gas, and suddenly you’re going faster than you ever were.

You can’t contain the scream this time— It surges through you like a bullet, and it ends halfway through, your voice dying in your chest, having used up the little breath you had— you’re choking again. You can’t think.

Your mind rushes, your hands cling, tears falling from you before you can even register them.

But JJ doesn’t slow down.

Even as the streets turn to dirt. Even as the road twists into something precarious, dangerous, unforgiving.

The pavement is cracked, riddled with potholes, with gaping wounds in the asphalt that could send you both flying if he miscalculates even once.

But he doesn’t care.

He flies down the path like he’s untouchable, like the Cut itself will bend to his will, like there’s no chance he could crash.

But you could.

You watch the ground loom ever closer with every turn he makes, asphalt slashing against the metal of the bike like a blade.

Your bones rattle with every jolt, your stomach lurches as the tires stumble over loose gravel, and you can barely think past the fear.

The bike jerks to a halt before your house so suddenly that you don’t even realize it stopped at first.

And you’re falling.

You don’t know whether you jumped or were thrown off.

Your feet hit the ground, but your legs don’t hold.

Your knees collapse into the dirt.

Your hands reach out, clutching the earth beneath you like it’s the only solid thing left in the world.

You gasp, dragging air into your lungs like you’ve been drowning for miles.

The ground is solid. Rough. Real.

But it slips through your fingers, and you can’t hold yourself steady.

You try to focus on the feeling of grit beneath your nails, the sting of pebbles digging into your skin.

Anything to remind yourself that you’re not moving anymore.

But you still feel it.

The phantom pull of the road. The momentum still dragging at your bones. The way your body still thinks you’re going too fast, too fast, too fast—

Somewhere in the haze, you hear voices.

Barry. John. Shouting. Arguing.

You squeeze your eyes shut, press your fingers harder into the dirt, try to remind yourself that you’re here. That you’re on the ground.

That you’re not crashing.

But God, it still feels like you are —Your hands shake so badly you can barely hold the dirt within your fingers. You breathe, gasping, trying to get air, but it’s stuck against your hiccups, against the sobs you don’t even have the strength to choke down— You’re crying. The air is still whizzing past you, sharp, so sharp you can feel it dragging you back, the ground looming closer, your bones nothing but glass.

– There you fucking are. Was it fun? You had your little fucking joyride?! – The voice echoes out from beyond, like you’re stuck, sinking into the air, towards the pavement, and they’re watching you from above.

It's Barry, you realize.

His voice cuts through the haze, loud and livid, sharp enough to hurt. And something inside you thrums. That stupid part of yourself, the part that always hopes someone will help you.

You want to run to him. You want him to see you, to hold you —solid, real, safe— you want something against you, something that isn’t this void that clings to you, this feeling that you’re a moment away from the worst pain you’ll ever feel.

But you can’t stand.

You can’t look at him.

You can’t do anything.

Your hands are still pressed into the dirt, your chest heaving, your body still bracing for impact that never came.

Because it still feels like you’re falling.

And you are.

You’re on the ground, but you’re not. You can’t stand. You can’t move. You can’t breathe.

Something is gonna crash against you. Something sharp. Something that’ll hurt you.

You’ve been beaten enough times to know this feeling, the gasping, aching anticipation of the whip coming down, that split second before someone hits you, before the ground jolts you, before something in you breaks.

Your whole body shakes—not just from fear, not just from the cold, from the void, but from the ache of knowing something worse is coming. You know it's coming. And you know you won’t come out of this unscathed.

Barry stops.

Mid-step, mid-swing, mid-word—he stops.

Because he sees you.

He sees you on the ground.

He sees you pale, trembling, sobbing.

And just like that, his anger vanishes.

He says something, his breath caught in his throat as his steps quicken, as he rushes towards you, having completely forgotten the rest.

His boots crunch against the gravel, loud and reckless and looming. You can’t even help but flinch. Your body jolts backwards, away from him, and you’re crawling again, recoiling until he’s dropping to his knees beside you, reaching out but not touching.

Like he’s done so many times.

And you’re there, this broken stray, cowering in the corner, shaking, shaking so bad you can’t even reach for him like you want.

– Sweetheart, – He murmurs, low, gentle in a way that makes you feel all the more pathetic. – Look at me.

You can’t.

You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head, curling tighter into yourself, fingers digging into the dirt as if you could disappear into it.

Barry swears under his breath. His hand resting so softly against your shoulder that he too is almost startled by how you flinch.

He stills.

His hand is barely touching you, barely even there, and yet your whole body flinches—hard, like he struck you instead— like a dog, waiting for a boot in the ribs. 

His breath hitches.

– Shit, – He exhales, barely a whisper. Slowly, carefully, he puts his hand on yout back. You don’t move.

You stay there, curled tight, fingers buried in the dirt, shaking, shaking, shaking.

He steadies the rest of his hand against your skin. And you don’t move. Because this is familiar. He’s done this before.

This isn’t new.

Barry swears again, softer this time, and then —very slowly— he moves again. His knees drag through the dirt, his other hand rests on your side.

Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just... offering.

A slow, steady pressure against your back. A grounding weight. A reminder.

You shudder.

Your body is still caught in the past, still bracing for a hit that isn’t coming, still waiting for the moment of impact.

But it doesn’t come.

Just warmth.

Just Barry.

Again.

Nothing’s coming. You have to tell yourself. It’s over. You're okay.

But you don’t believe it. Not fully.

– Sweetheart, – He tries again, voice lower now, still gentle but almost frustrated. Your heart catches. And you feel that guilt blooming in you again. Because he’s had to do this before. Because he’s had to pick up the pieces of you from the ground plenty of times before. You want to kick yourself. You don’t deserve this. You almost flinch away. But his hold tightens, the slightest bit. Grounding. Like he’s afraid to scare you away. –  You’re okay. You’re okay. Just relax. You're okay.

You’re okay.

You don’t move.

Not until he presses a little firmer. Not until his fingers brush your ribs, not holding, not forcing, just... there. Until he pulls at you, softly, not like JJ did. 

Barry doesn’t hesitate.

His arms wrap around you, firm and solid, pulling you in, gathering you up, shielding you from the air itself. The second you feel his grip tighten, you break. A sob wracks through you, sharp and choked, as your hands claw at his shirt, gripping, gripping, gripping.

You cling like you’re afraid he’ll disappear.

Like you’re still moving too fast, and he’s just barely keeping you grounded.

Barry holds you tighter. – You’re okay. – He repeats.

Something's coming. Steps behind him. You see the outline of someone, legs walking towards the two of you, but when you move, he holds you tighter. Arms bracing your back like a straightjacket, keeping you from yourself. Keeping you sane.

– You’re okay. – Is the only thing he says. And he keeps saying it, again and again, until the words echo in your mind, bouncing against the walls of your skull, less and less frantic until you can say it. 

You believe him.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to stop falling.

But your name resounds again from behind you. Once, a second time, then you feel that same hand that grabbed you sink into your arm again, trying to pull you back. – Get up! – JJ shouts, nails sinking into your shoulders as he grabs you.

Barry pushes him away.

Shoves him.

You hear the stutter in JJ’s steps as he stumbles back, sinking further into his arms like a child. – What the fuck did you do, huh? What the fuck did you do to her, JJ?!

– Get up and fucking look at me. – He keeps pulling at you, calling your name, his hand burrowing into your flesh. You want to stand, you want to push him away, but you cower. And Barry does it for you.

He shoves JJ again, hard enough that you feel the struggle between them. – She ain’t gotta listen to a word you say, psycho! What the fuck is your problem?!

JJ laughs—sharp, bitter, like it’s the funniest fucking thing in the world.

– Course you’d hide behind him, – He spits, his voice mocking, cruel. – That’s all you ever fucking do. Hide.

Barry tenses.

You feel it.

The way his muscles coil, the way his grip shifts, ready to push back, to swing, to end this.

But JJ doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even look at Barry.

He’s still looking at you.

You can feel his eyes burning holes into your back as you pull back from Barry. You can feel the rage emanating off of him.

– You got nothing to say now? – JJ presses, stepping closer. – Nothing at all? You usually talk such big game, baby. Now you can't even look me in the eye?!

Barry moves first.

– Back the fuck up.

It’s not a warning.

It’s a command.

– Why? Are you worried she’s too close to stab me in the back again? The way I see it, she’s in the perfect position to do that to you, man!

You pull back from Barry, hands still clinging to his shirt as you turn to look at JJ, but Barry doesn’t let go, not as JJ’s gaze finally flicks to him, smirking, scoffing. Not as he pulls you to your feet again, tearing you away from your friend like you're nothing but a thing he can take.

– You feel good? – JJ’s voice is low, furious, barely held together, as his hands sink into you. – Feel real fucking good going behind everyone’s back? Working for Rafe? That do it for you? 

Your chest tightens.

– Stop it—

– You got your little job, right? – JJ barrels over your words, stepping closer, looming, his breath hot, sharp, filled with venom. – That what you’re calling it now? Fucking us all over for a paycheck? Maybe that isn’t it though, maybe you’re the one who’s getting fucked, huh?

John bristles from the porch, his voice low, tense. – JJ.

– Nah. She knows what she’s doing, right? Did you tell your brother how Rafe was all over you in that parking lot, calling you baby and shit?! That dignified, hard-working girl act you put up really paid off huh? You really had us all fooled! – John doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t call JJ out, he just stands there. – Feel fulfilled now? Now that you managed to tick off every fucking form of betrayal in the book? Because you got me fucked up!

Barry’s done.

– She ain’t got you fucked up, man. That’s exactly what you are. Are you serious right now? – Barry snaps, voice rough with disbelief. – You wanna talk about her fucking up? You—you who does nothing but fuck up?!

– Nobody is fucking talking to you, bro.

– Ain’t nobody around here your “bro”, JJ. Thank God, too. Weren’t your parents siblings or whatever? That’d explain why you only got half a fucking brain.

– Shut the fuck u—

– Oh, Alabama over here’s mad! – Barry scoffs, a quick, sharp sound drained of anything even close to humor. – That’s actually hilarious. That some bum like you would feel like you have the right to call anyone out on what they do or don’t do for work. You sit here, lounging for free in this house she pays for, doing jack shit with your fucking life like the trailer trash your ass is—but she’s the bad guy for working? Is that how long it’s been since you had a job, JJ? That you can’t fathom the possibility of someone making money without selling themselves?

JJ laughs.

Not real. Not amused.

Just dangerous.

Like he’s already decided how this ends.

– That’s cute, – He murmurs, nodding slowly, like it’s all some joke he’s humoring. – That’s real fucking cute. You’re gonna add anything to this conversation, or is your dog doing all the talking for you today?

Barry chuckles. Dry and low, so low you can barely hear it. – Dog? You run around sniffing John B’s ass all day and night like you’re in heat or something, but I’m the one who’s a dog? Shit, I ain’t see a bitch around here but you, JJ.

JJ lunges. His fist swings through the air, quick and violent, but before he can even touch Barry, he uppercuts him in the stomach.

JJ tumbles back, his hands still on you, tearing at you, grabbing, ripping, pulling— but his grip doesn’t stand the pain Barry caused him, and he falters.

Barry reacts instantly.

He grabs his arm, shoves him off of you, pivots —his knuckles slam into JJ’s temple.

The sound is sickening: A dull, thudding crack of bone on bone. JJ’s head snaps sideways. His body stumbles, tilting, collapsing.

But Barry doesn’t stop.

He’s on him before he hits the ground, tackling him hard, sending them both crashing into the dirt.

JJ barely has time to react before Barry’s fist connects again.

And again.

And again.

A hit to the jaw—JJ spits blood.

A hit to the cheekbone—his head slams back against the ground.

Barry is relentless.

You call his name, your heart racing, the blood searing your vision like a burning bush, but he doesn’t listen.

His teeth are bared, his muscles coiled and shaking, his body moving on pure fury, on the weight of everything JJ has said, everything he’s done. The years he’s spent hating him for you, the months he’s been hating JJ for the stupid shit he pulled and the problem’s he’s caused him.

He’s beating him to a fucking pulp.

JJ groans. A sharp, wet, broken sound, choked by the blood in his mouth.

His fist swings again—

And that’s when you move.

You throw yourself forward, grabbing Barry’s arm, yanking, clawing, trying to drag him off—

– Stop it! You’re gonna kill him! Stop it! – Your voice cracks, weak, your attempts useless even as your brother joins you, trying to pull them apart, but Barry keeps swinging.

His breathing hard, shaking, still staring down at JJ, moving despite your grip and John’s, like he wants to break something permanent. Like just bruising him isn’t enough.

Like he’s one more hit away from doing it.

You pull harder, hands gripping his clothes, his arm, anything you can reach.

Barry jerks against your hold, laughing, spitting at JJ—then finally, he lets you drag him back.

His breathing is ragged, wild, unhinged.

JJ groans, coughing. His face is already swelling, blood smeared across his cheek.

Your stomach twists.

You reach for him before you can think, hands hovering over his face, over the bruises already forming.

– JJ, – You breathe, shaking. – Jesus fucking Christ.

He's a mess. Blood, flesh, face. You can barely make one thing out from the other. Barely see the damage.

Your hands brush the bloodied hair out of his face, an instinctive motion, just so you can see where the cuts ends and the swelling begins. And for a moment, he almost seems like he’ll let you.

JJ's eyes part, moving though your face as you look at him, and he breathes in deep. He sighs. 

A familiar sound. 

Relief. 

Relief that it's over.

You reach again, just barely ghosting your hands over his temple, where Barry hit him first. But his eyes widen, something in them shifting, cold, cruel. 

And he shoves you away.

Hard. 

Hard enough that you stumble back as well.

Hard enough that Barry notices.

You hear him tear himself away from John's grip, rushing past you, but you grab him just in time. – Please, please Barry. Stop it. Just stop it. Don't do this right now.

Barry is still trembling, breath wild, erratic, hands twitching like he’s one second away from lunging all over again.

You feel it, the anger rolling off him in waves, the way his body keeps trying to pull forward, like something feral inside him hasn’t had enough.

You grip his wrist tighter. – Please, – You whisper. – Please, Barry. Just stop it. Don’t do this right now.

Barry’s teeth grind together. His breath is sharp, ragged, dangerous.

But he listens.

JJ doesn’t.

John helps him sit up, a steadying hand on his back, but the second JJ is upright, breathing, aware again—he’s talking. Talking, insulting, tearing into you like it’s the only thing keeping him conscious.

– You’re gonna let him? – His voice is hoarse, broken, but still filled with venom. – This piece of shit does nothing but get you in trouble but— He spits blood onto the dirt, wipes his mouth, shaking his head. – You’re just gonna let him do whatever he wants?

Your stomach twists.

– JJ—

– I shouldn’t be surprised. – His head snaps up. Eyes blazing, furious, wild. – You let it happen, – He snarls. – You always let it happen, You don’t give a fuck about us. Don’t fucking act like you do. You stood there and fucking— He gestures to himself, to the mess Barry made of him, to his swollen face, to the blood dripping onto his collar. – And you fucking let him do it.

– What the fuck are you gonna do about it, then, tough guy? – Barry laughs, his hands trembling. 

JJ’s muscles snap tight.

You push Barry back again, more frantic now, shaking, pleading, but he doesn’t listen. 

Your hands tremble.

JJ pushes himself up fully now, John’s grip still firm on his shoulder, holding him steady. But it doesn’t matter. 

Because JJ is not steady.

Not at all.

– You ain’t gonna say anything, huh? – He breathes, voice cold, sharp, shaking. – You play the tough girl act very well for someone who’s such a bitch.

Barry tenses again. His laugh is the crack of a whip as he pushes past you, you have to shove at him just so he won’t rush in and punch him again. 

John’s holding JJ back, his face wrecked with something almost sad. Almost worried. – Let go of me. – Barry groans, the impatience growing in his voice. – Let go of me sweetheart, this motherfucker needs to be put in his place.

– Let it go, Bee.

– Let it go?! – He does a double take, looking at you as if you’d grown a second head. – Let it go? He just called you a—

– I heard it. Please, this is enough. You nearly killed him. You won. – You grip his arm tighter. His breath comes out heavy, perplexed. – Just let it go, please.

John’s voice is a murmur behind you, whatever it is that he says to his friend doesn’t reach you, but you know it isn’t working, because the outrage on JJ’s face doesn’t budge. – JJ—

– You’re a fucking traitor. – He spits your name out along with the blood, your brother still trying to pull him back with all he’s got. – You are. You’re a traitor and a whore!

It punches through you.

JJ stumbles forward, closer, swaying but still standing.

– You don’t belong here, – He seethes. – Get the fuck out.

Your heart stops.

You blink at him, your breath snagging in your throat.

This is your house. Your home. He can’t—he can’t just tell you to—

– Get out. – It’s louder this time, meaner, angrier, like it’s his right to say it, like he actually has the power to take something else from you. – Since you’re so happy to be Rafe’s free use slut, go ahead and do it on your own! We don’t fucking need you!

Your lips part. – This is my house, – But your voice is a sliver of what it once was. You’re not looking at JJ. You barely hear his words, but your brother is standing there, completely still. His arms suddenly lax around the other boy. – This is my house! – Louder, firmer, but just as useless.

– I don’t think it is. – JJ laughs. He’s looking back at your brother now, too. Because he knows John isn’t gonna say anything. He knows it just as well as you do. – Your name isn’t John Routledge. That’s the name on the deed, isn’t it? And it’s not yours.

– John. – You’re pleading again. The gray-green of your brother’s eyes gaping at you emptily, thoughtlessly, as if he’s gone into shock. – Say something, John. This is my house too!

He doesn’t say anything.

Just stares.

– Say something!

You don’t know how many times you’ve done this.

How many times you’ve stood there, practically on your knees, begging him to act like a brother. To act like he cares about you. To act as if he’d loved you for a single moment of his life.

You don’t know how many times you’ve gotten this exact response.

The blank stare.

The guilty face.

That look in his eye that tells you just how much he doesn’t have it in him to pretend, even for a moment, that you’re less than the stupid girl who, for whatever reason, has done everything in your power to keep him afloat.

– John. – His name comes out hoarse, quiet. A whisper. A prayer. A plea.

His eyes never waver from yours, he keeps looking, keeps standing there, and though his face is cracked with guilt, there is no shame. Nothing that would make him act on it.

Maybe there’s just nothing there.

No fire. No anger. No defense. No loyalty.

Just the look you’ve seen a thousand fucking times before.

You don’t know why you still beg. You don’t know why you still believe. 

You are pleading with a ghost.

John doesn’t move. He just looks at you. Like he’s already decided. Like this is already done.

And it is. 

But it wasn’t done with the fight, or the cursing, or the blood, not even the way JJ turns, tossing the keys to the bike onto the ground, storming off like he’s the one who was wronged. Not when you see the way John hesitates for half a second, looking at you like he wants to say something, like he wants to take it back, like he wants to undo what’s already done—

Not even when he follows him, turning his back on you like it’s so simple, so natural, like it was always meant to be.

It ended years ago.

Maybe it never even began.

Maybe you're the only fool alive who ever believed you were his sister.

The night cracks open.

The silence presses in.

You're stuck inside your body, inside your head, inside all the memories that claw their way back into you like rusted nails.

You are twelve years old, standing behind John, watching through the schoolyard fence as JJ and the others shove you into the dirt.

"Ain’t she your sister?" someone asks.

John laughs with them.

"Nah, man. I don’t know her."

You are fifteen, standing in the living room, your hands trembling at your sides as your father slams you against the wall.

John is at the end of the hall.

Watching.

Silent.

Your father’s voice is thunder in your ears.

"You think you’re smart, huh? You think I don’t know it was you?"

But it wasn’t you. It was John.

And he lets it happen anyway.

You are seventeen, standing in this very yard, watching your brother walk away from you again.

Just like he always does.

Just like he always will.

Because John —the John you thought you knew, the John that sobbed in your arms for months every night your father didn't come home, the John who wouldn't eat unless you fed him, who wouldn't sleep unless you held him, wouldn't leave the house unless you were close enough that he could grab you, was never there. John, the boy, John, the brother. He's only ever existed as far as he needed you. And now he doesn’t— is not there. 

He's John B.

The star student, the popular kid. That boy that was always too good to hang around some mongrel like you.

And this is what John B does.

This is what he’s always done.

He doesn’t protect you.

He doesn't defend you.

He doesn’t choose you.

Every time you’ve asked God whether you were your brother’s keeper, you felt the weight of every living soul around you say no —You closed your eyes, and you were Abel, lying, stupidly, on the ground you just tilled as he stood behind you with a stone, ready to crush you. You were Remus, laying bricks with your back turned as he came to slay you. You were Osiris, walking thoughtlessly into a coffin he’s made to bury you, fully believing that he wanted nothing but to see you well— Because for every life you’ve shared, he’s killed you, and still somehow convinced you to pray that you’re still siblings in the next.

You don’t remember when your hands started shaking.

Or when your knees lost their strength.

Or when your breath began coming too fast, too shallow, not enough, never enough.

All you know is that the world tilts.

And you sway.

And you break.

And you cry.

You reach out—for something, anything—but there’s nothing to hold onto.

Nothing but empty space where your brother used to be, where the two of you used to play, where you once believed you could be something like brother and sister.

The sky blurs. The trees waver. The ground rushes toward you.

But before you can collapse, before you can even feel yourself falling, Barry catches you.

He's solid. Real.

Not like John. —You shake your head, mentally scratching that concept from your conscience— Not like John B. 

– Hey—hey—look at me. – Barry’s hands grip your arms, tight, steady. His eyes search your face, his chest rising and falling like he’s just run a mile. – C'mon. Breathe.

You press your hands against his chest, against something solid, something unshaking, something that won’t disappear the moment you close your eyes.

And finally you do breathe. But the wound is still gaping. Still bleeding. And John B is already gone. The door slams closed, leaving you to rot in the silence, bathed by the flickering light of the porch; the one you asked him to change for a lightbulb you bought weeks ago, and is still sitting, forgotten on his nightstand.

Barry smooths the tears away from your face, like he used to do when you came to him after a fight with your father, like he’s done for every heartbreak since. – Let’s go home. – He whispers, his hands still cupping your face. The plastic of his keys—Rafe’s keys— pressed against your jaw. – C’mon, let me take you home.

– It's gone, Bee.

– It's not.

– He kicked me out, I can’t come back. It's gone.

– It’s not, it isn’t, don’t fucking say that—don’t ever say that again. – His grip on you tightens, the muscles of his hand flexing against your skin, quick, so quick, you barely brace yourself when he makes you stand in front of him. – That piece of shit isn’t your home. This place? This fucking dump you lived in? This isn’t your home. I’m your home, okay? And you’re mine, and you’re not staying here to keep breaking your own heart over and over again. Let's go.

– Barry—

– I don’t wanna hear it. – He's firm. He's angry. Your chest weighs heavy, still forever afraid of any sign of anger, even when it’s not directed to you. But he holds you, and he looks at you, really looks at you, and he repeats. – Let’s go, okay? I’m taking you to my place, and I don’t wanna hear you complaining. 

– Okay.

– C’mon. 

Barry’s hands are firm, unshaking, steady, and you barely feel them as he guides you toward the bike. Everything is distant, muted, like you’re watching yourself move from somewhere outside your own body. A conscience beyond your own. 

You let him press the helmet onto your head, let him buckle it under your chin with a flick of his fingers. And you watch the way he moves.

His hands are still clenched as he tosses your purse, discarded over the ground, on your lap. He looks over his shoulders, at the closed door, with his jaw clenched, and every so often he shakes his head, frowning, outraged by a thought you can’t hear, can't know.

You don’t remember climbing onto the bike.

You barely register the way Barry grips your hands, pulling them around his waist, but he doesn’t say anything. Not the usual "Hold on, sweetheart," he always says like it’s second nature, not any of the stupid comments he makes whenever you ride with him. His movements are brisk, borderline impatient, but not careless, never careless. He kicks the bike to life, the engine shuddering through your bones as it hums beneath you, the heat of the exhaust jostling against the scrapes on your legs.

Then, you’re moving.

Not fast. Not yet.

But even at this speed, the wind presses against you, makes you feel untethered, unsteady, fragile in a way you haven’t let yourself acknowledge until now. You close your eyes and grip him tight, focusing on the smell of the helmet, breathing it  in, the smoke of his cigarettes, the shoddy menthol of his nicotine gum, and something grounding, something real. 

Your fingers find the fabric of his shirt —your shirt— the old marina shirt that belonged to your dad, the one you were wearing that day with him and Rafe, when everything went to shit. It’s crumpled, but it feels nice, still tender from the fabric softener you used for that last wash.

You feel the moment he registers it, the way you grip him, trying to distract yourself—the way his muscles tense slightly, the way his hands shift against the handles, grip tightening, the moment of hesitation before he sighs through his nose and settles.

He drives slower than usual.

Not slow, but slow enough that you can tell.

Slow enough that it’s not Barry’s usual recklessness, his usual need to prove something.

Slow enough that he’s paying attention.

You don’t know how long you ride like that.

Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. Maybe a whole fucking lifetime.

Everything is blurred, stretched thin, bleeding together like a half-forgotten dream, and you let it wash over you, let the hum of the engine drown out the roar in your head, let the road carry you somewhere, anywhere that isn’t here, that isn’t now.

You don’t notice when he turns onto the familiar back roads.

You don’t notice the flickering neon light, the cracked pavement, the darkened windows.

You don’t notice where you are at all.

Not until he kills the engine.

Not until the silence crashes over you, sharp and final. Not until you hear the low creak of his kickstand settling, the way he shifts slightly beneath your hands, pulling off his helmet, running a hand through his hair before glancing over his shoulder.

Not until you look up.

And the sign is right there, right above you.

The River Styx.

Your stomach drops.

But Barry doesn’t say anything, his fingers brush over your wrist, still taught around his waist, and he pats his other hand over your knee. – C'mon.

You just stare at the sign, the neon glow casting strange shadows across the pavement, the weight of everything pressing down on you all over again.

You should have known.

Of course he’d bring you here.

Because where else would you go?

Where else is there to go?

Barry swings his leg off the bike, tossing the helmet onto the seat, shaking his head like he’s already exhausted by whatever is going on in his own head. He exhales sharply, running a hand over his jaw, then gestures toward the door.

– Come on, sweetheart, it's about time this day fucking ends. 

You swallow hard, unmoving.

His brows pull together slightly, like he’s trying to be patient, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say, but Barry isn’t built for patience, for softness, for comfort in the way people expect it.

So instead, he sighs, takes a step closer, and reaches for your wrist, fingers curling around it, not pulling, just holding. – You promised. – He says, but this time it actually is softer, kinder, nearly patient. – Now, we can go back if you want, but then the deal is over, and you'll have to sleep on the pull-out couch.

You scoff, still looking at the sign, but you feel your arm relax under his touch. – You suck.

– Not just yet, I’m still sober. – He winks, smiling half-heartedly as he pulls you to the door.

Finnean, the owner’s son, grins the moment he sees you, arms crossed over the bar, his too-many tattoos peeking out from what should have been the sleeves of this dirty wife-beater he’s wearing, the gold tooth in his smile catching the dim light. – Well, well. Look who finally crawled outta the grave.

– You thought we were dead? – Barry hums, unamused, knocking twice against the counter as he slides onto the stool, pulling you beside him. 

Finnean laughs, more a scoff than anything as he places two cups before you. – D’you ever hear the expression ‘only the good die young’? Good ain’t the case for you two. I was actually leaning towards your ass finally getting detained.

– Why? Your brothers need a lil company? Maybe sweetheart can go to see them. – Barry pats your leg, smiling, tight and taught, none of the usual ease on him. – What’d you say, jailbait?

– You can go all you like, sweets. I’m just not sure you’d come back.

– You’re a peach, Finn. – He smiles at you, green eyes flashing with something you don’t want to understand as he turns his back and grabs something.

– And you’re a plump, little red cherry. – He shakes his head, setting the glass down in front of you with a wink before tossing something onto the bar. – I could just pop you in my mouth.

A bowl of bright red maraschino cherries sits before you. Your heart stumbles, a smile actually forming on your face.

Barry grins, nudging them closer. – Knew that’d cheer you up. – His shoulder brushes yours as he pulls your stool closer, watching you eat. – We weren’t in jail or nothing, but this one just got out of house arrest.

– That brother you’re always talking about? – He asks Barry, already throwing his head back, laughing, reaching for the bourbon before Barry even asks. – That explains it. – You stop for a moment, aching again.

Was it so obvious? – Does it? – You murmur, and Finnean gives you a look.

– You disappear for months, and when you finally show up, you look like someone dragged you through hell backwards. – He nods at Barry. – He looks ready to start swinging on the first motherfucker who blinks at him wrong.

– That’s just his face, – You say dryly, eating so you don’t have to look at them.

Barry just snorts, shoving your shoulder lightly. – Ain’t you a charmer? – He takes a cherry from your hand, still chewing it as he downs his cup. – Hit me again.

– You tryna meet God or something? – Barry chuckles at your words, this time more genuine. The smile lingers as Finn pours more bourbon into his glass, sliding another over to you.

– Holler when you get tired of this loser, okay sweetheart? – He winks, that same old joke he always says, grinning as he slides on over to another customer. – Finn will love you long time.

You breathe out slowly, your lungs still burning as you reach for the glass.

You’re tired of thinking about John.

Tired of mourning someone who was never there to begin with.

Maybe Barry had a point with the whole drinking your sorrows away thing. He’d been doing it for years, already. Started drinking just after his father was finally arrested for good.

And hey, if it worked for him…

You bring the glass to your lips, feeling your friend’s eyes on you as the liquid runs down your throat like straight gasoline. He chuckles, patting you in the back.

The first drink burns.

The second warms.

By the third, you’re floating.

The night bleeds away with every time you glimpse the bottom of your cup staring down at you.

Time slips through your fingers, lost in the clink of glasses, the sharp burn of bourbon, the sticky sweetness of cherries.

But though your thoughts slow, the ache never leaves you.

Barry loosens, even as you remain a little melancholy, all warmth beside you, his voice low in your ear, teasing, coaxing laughter from you with every sarcastic remark, every quiet joke. He tips the bottle, refilling your glass before you can even think to ask.

Your chest clenches.

The songs in the background rise, fall, twist into something familiar.

Somewhere between the fourth drink and the sixth, you’re singing along, voice tangled with Barry’s, both of you yelling out the lyrics, slurring through the old Irish verses, laughter shaking through you as the whole bar joins in.

You don’t remember when Finnean slid the bottle of homemade moonshine across the counter, just that Barry caught it with a smirk, tucking it under his arm before pulling you off the stool.

His hands are already on you, already guiding, already pressing against your waist.

You stumble, laughing, pushing him back. – You can’t fucking drive like this, dumbass.

Barry grumbles, rolling his eyes, but you grab his arm and pull.

So you walk.

Through the streets of the Cut, the night air cool against your flushed skin, your voices loud, singing through the empty roads from your empty chest. Barry spins you at one point, pulling you into his arms, making you laugh, and you linger a moment longer than you should, his arms still around you when you finally pull away, palms burning hot through the fabric of your shirt as he walks behind you.

By the time you reach his trailer, your legs ache, your chest hurts from laughing, and your head is woozy.

His trailer is dark, not a single light on as he pulls you towards it, hands searching your sides, his chest pressed against your back. His fingers rest at the small of your waist, loose, familiar, something closer to instinct than thought.

He’s closer than he should be, you know he is, but you don’t push him away.

Maybe it’s the drinking.

Maybe it’s the way the night has stripped you raw, leaving nothing but exposed nerve endings and memories that won’t stay buried.

Or maybe it’s just him.

The warmth of him.

The familiarity of him.

The fact that he’s still here despite the fact you’re down in the dumps.

But the way he's looking at you now isn't new. It's far too familiar.

His lips part slightly when he turns you, his head tilting, eyes flicking between your mouth and the mess of your hair, the flush of your skin, the shape of you standing so fucking close to him you could feel the shape of your body moulding to his.

He leans in, breath fanning against you like a dragon’s, warm, cutting, almost inviting you to be bitten. You turn just in time, his lips landing on your cheek, warm and soft, and way too eager. – You know we never stop once we start. – You mumble, your back brushing the railing as he pulls you up the stairs.

Barry’s lips twitch. His fingers flex against your waist, just barely dragging down, slipping lower, gripping just enough to pull you fully against him.

His voice is low, rough, already gone. – Who says I want to stop?

You know you shouldn’t.

It’s been a while since you drank and remained conscious, but the ache in your chest is doing nothing for your rational thinking skills, and when he cups your face, soft, so soft, like no one else in the world ever does, you let him.

You taste yourself first—sweet, sticky cherry, the sugar lingering on your tongue, and he hums, pulls away just a bit, licking his lips before he kisses you again. You taste him, then. Malt. Amber. Tobacco. Bourbon-smooth and burning at the edges.

You feel guilty already.

But you want the comfort. The ease. The warmth.

His hands tighten, pressing into the small of your back, like he needs you closer, like the inches between you are somehow unbearable, and he sighs against your lips as he kisses you again. The guilt writhes within you as your pride swells. He hums into your mouth, something low, something pleased, something that sounds dangerously like relief.

You barely register him guiding you back until your calves hit the edge of the couch on the porch, and suddenly you’re falling.

Not away from him.

With him.

Barry pulls you onto his lap, knees spreading beneath you, hands gripping tighter, hotter, rougher.

His mouth moves against yours with purpose now—hungry, claiming, a little desperate, a little too much. But he never pushes. He always begs you to take.

You feel his breath stutter when you shift against him, when your hands tangle in his hair, when your fingers scrape against his scalp just the way he likes and he groans, deep in his throat, pulling you tighter.

This is it.

This is the cycle.

This is the inevitable.

This is history repeating itself.

This is what you do when you have nowhere else to go.

This is a promise, a bad decision made in the heat of too much alcohol, sealed between his teeth and your lips, unspoken, unbreakable. You don’t really know what you’re promising. But like the fool you are —like the fool you’ve always been— you’re almost glad to hold it out on a silver platter, just to get that rare sliver of love you’re always desperately grasping at.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @myluvingera @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez @sassyvilliantrope @vampiriito @sassybearfire

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!simon x f!reader / part 7

previous part

tw: NSFW, MDNI, don't wanna spoil but just be aware!

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Good things don’t last. And both you and Simon were about to have a cruel reminder.

Simon stuck around after the two of you had shared the intimacy of a kiss. He didn’t let it go farther than just that, and neither did you. In fact, the rest of his time spent cooped up in your apartment was rather quiet and calming, despite the events that had taken place.

There was still fresh blood on his hands. He had let Ghost take over his senses and consume him in a blind rage, only to return to you as Simon, rage simmering into a flutter of calm. 

Simon felt like he was lying to you. And truthfully, part of him was. You didn’t know about the realness of his job or what he did. You didn’t see the knives he embedded in unexpecting men and women, or the droplets of powdered poison slipped into their glasses at parties. You were blissfully unaware of the true nature of his being.

Simon couldn’t exist without Ghost, but Ghost could certainly thrive without Simon.

Ghost could also live without you. No – he’d have to live without you, at some point. Simon just didn’t want to.

He was being selfish and he knew it. He was taking advantage of a woman who had no business being involved with him, yet his heart was unable to let you go and finish the job, the job he’s always been destined to do until death did he part.

Simon had been lying to you, and now, all of it was crumbling down on him.

Price’s text stared back at him from the brightness of his phone screen. It was like staring into the eyes of death, causing his chest to fill with a sickening tightness that made it hard to breathe.

“We need to talk. You know where to meet me.”

So he left you. He made sure you were fast asleep in the comfort of your bed, sheets pulled up to your ears, and he selfishly allowed himself a minute to stare down at your snoozing figure. So peaceful, you were, eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes fanning beautifully across the tops of your cheeks. Your mouth was parted with puffs of air exhaling from your lips, ones he had pressed kiss after kiss against the night before.

Selfish.

The streets were busy as he walked, yet the impending doom that hung over him like a storm cloud muted the sounds and circled him in a bubble. He didn’t hear the chatter of people passing by, nor the cars that revved and honked from the roads beside him.

It was a cruel silence as he went, like his mind was shutting down all aspects of life in a cruel reminder of the ones he’d taken away.

Price resided in a remote apartment complex, one that showed just how much he worked for what he did. Killing people, just like him, but taking on a role on the side of watching over him as well as Gaz and Soap. Brothers they were, all of them, and now Simon feared he was fucking up the dynamic by being greedy.

“Ghost,” Price greeted as he opened the door. Simon gave him a curt nod and entered the residence, following behind Price.

The man in question was silent when he made way to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea. He offered Simon none in return, and Simon knew it was his subtle way of showing disappointment.

“Let’s chat,” Price mused, gesturing with a hand for Simon to join him in the living room.

Simon sat with his fists on his knees, back straight as a board, as Price sat in front of him in a much more relaxed state, leaning back and resting an ankle on his knee. He sipped at the tea, eyes boring into Simon’s.

“You fucked up, Simon.” Straight and blunt, cutting right to the chase. It stuck into Simon like a bee sting. “Killin’ a man outside of a job. Killin’ him of your own free will.”

Graves. The memory of his body, stabbed ruthlessly in his kitchen, his blood puddling the floor in a red mess, staining Simon’s skin an ugly crimson that he spent lifetimes scrubbing off. Mutilated, mangled, completely unrecognizable, all from Ghost’s doing.

“What the fuck were you thinkin’?” Price roared, displaying the layered frustration he had kept abay up until now. “This is your job, Simon, our job. You kill to get paid, not kill for your own pleasure.”

“I know.”

“You know, and still did it.”

“I fucked up.”

“Damn right you fucked up, Simon,” Price sneered. He stared at Simon with a look of anger, before it simmered down to one of muted frustration, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. He pressed his fingers to his eyes, squeezing them shut, before dropping his hand back down. “You need to let her go.”

“Who?” Simon asked, and Price scoffed.

“Don’t be coy. Gaz told me everythin’. Had Soap follow you around when you killed that Graves guy, saw you go back to your little bird’s place. You know who I’m talkin’ about.”

Fuck.

He’d been sloppy, all because of you. Simon never, in all his time of being a hitman, missed the feeling of watching eyes following him around. He never missed the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the feeling of something or someone watching, observing, never missed the shiver running down his spine in a cold chill.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ game, Simon–”

“I know–”

“--yet you’re playin’ it like it is. This is a civilian’s life we’re talkin’ about, and not only did you kill Graves without payment, but you haven’t clipped your damn bird of her wings like she wants.”

Every single word was a harsh slap to the face, and Simon hated to admit that Price was right. He had rejected the job offer you’d given him from the very beginning. You wanted to die, you wanted to seek safe haven, yet he took that away from you. He wanted to save you, wanted to show you that life had meaning in its own ways, yet where were his reasons to stay?

Simon was a fucking hypocrite. Both to you, and himself.

“You know what you have to do, Simon.”

Simon stared at Price with eyes narrowed in confusion. He studied the firm lines that littered Price’s face, the way his mouth tugged into a frown, nearly covered by his facial hair. The tea he nursed was now growing cold in the presence of his lap, one hand curled around the handle with a white-knuckled grip.

“You can’t possibly ask me to do that,” Simon scoffed.

“I am, and I will. You either let her go and forget she exists, or you kill her off like you were intended to do in the first place. If you can’t handle it, then I’ll have Soap do it. Your choice.”

Price was giving Simon an option, though really, it wasn’t a choice at all. Either way, Simon would lose you, and he’d be forced to toss you aside like worthless garbage, or be forced to see the life drain from your eyes.

He fucked up, big time. He shouldn’t have brought this upon you. How selfish could he be?

Ghost was the person he was destined to be. Ghost was who he truly was. Up until he met you, he was content with that. He was the best of the best, and performed his job like it was a mundane task. Simple. Easy.

You slowed him down. You broke down the walls he’d so carefully built, brick by brick, all because you were a direct clone of who he used to be before he tread down this path of sinful bloodshed. He was an idiot to think he could have you without suffering the repercussions.

You didn’t deserve that, nor did you deserve a man like him – so broken and bruised, his heart too shattered to glue back together, not even by the tenderness of your own hands.

Maybe death really was the best ending for you. But Simon was a greedy bastard and couldn’t allow a world to spin without a piece of you occupying it.

“I’ll let her go,” he finally agreed. His tongue felt as if it were sharp as knives, slicing the gums of his mouth open with every word. Metallic saliva coated his tongue, filling his mouth with vials of blood. “I’ll cut off contact. Erase her number, forget she existed, so long as you don’t lay a hand on her.”

Price stared at him with an unreadable look. It was like he was pondering, examining, trying to crawl his way into Simon’s little mind and take a gander on what he was thinking. It was intrusive, invasive, and Simon looked away.

“She knows too much,” Price replied, tone much softer and sympathetic than before. “None of us want to hurt her, and her bein’ involved will only risk her safety. I’m happy you found somebody, Simon, I am. But you knew what you were gettin’ into. We can’t fraternize with the innocent, or else somebody else will just end up killin’ her instead of us.”

Simon scowled beneath his mask, crossing his arms over his chest in a defense mechanism. He didn’t want to admit that once again, Price was right, and Simon would’ve been the asshole that would’ve eventually gotten you killed or hurt.

Good things weren’t meant for people like him. You weren’t meant for people like him.

You were a flower in a blooming field of color, while he was the parasite that ate away at your soft petals.

Simon left Price’s with a sour taste in his mouth. It was bile rising in his throat and threatening to combust. It tainted his tongue with sickening acid, and no matter how much he tried to swallow it down, it grew stronger.

He lost track of how long he’d stared down at the messages on his phone, all from you.

“Hey, Si! Where’d you go?”

“Tell me when you have to leave for a job next time, dummy.”

“I’ll pick up some food for you later when you come by!”

Every message was a slice in the arteries of his heart. It filled him with aching pain, one nothing could ever smooth over. You were the bandages that held him together, and what was he? The bastard who took advantage.

He couldn’t let it end like this. He couldn’t click the block button on your contact, he couldn’t walk away like he should. Not without seeing you one more time – because that’s all he was. Selfish, selfish, selfish, a word that echoed in his mind on repeat like an irritating buzz.

Simon’s legs moved on their own accord, already mapping out the path towards your apartment. He knew you’d be home, he knew you were waiting for him to return like normal for his nightly endeavors in your presence.

He moved in earnest, strides long and swift, passing by people on the street without a second thought. He kept his eyes trained forward, not letting a single distraction stop him from seeing you.

Just one goodbye. That’s all he needed.

Making it to the front of your door, he found himself slamming his fist along it, the booming knock filling the hallway. He never knocked, it wasn’t his thing, yet here he was, mind so cloudy that it was the first thing he thought to do.

When the door opened and he saw your ruffled expression, he released a sharp exhale, one he thinks he’d been holding the entire run here. His chest visibly relaxed, shoulders slouching, hand dropping to his side once the door was tugged away from his knocking.

“Simon?” you asked, lifting a hand up to grab hold of his shoulder in attempts to keep him steady while he caught his breath. “You– are you okay?”

“I–” he sputtered, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Simon stared at you before pushing his way into your apartment, slamming the door behind him and locking it up tight.

Millions of thoughts raced around his head, and all of them revolved around you. Not a single thought went unnoticed by your being, and they fluttered around anxiously, like butterflies rapidly flapping their wings and crossing over one another.

“Simon,” you called out again, and he snapped his head to look over at you. Your face was filled with concern, eyebrows pulled together, lips pressed in a thin line. His eyes shifted down, watching the way you frowned. Even when you were taut up tight, you still made him feel dizzy at the sight of you.

Simon’s body moved on its own accord. It was like he lost complete control, instincts taking over.

He tugged off his mask in a frenzy, letting it fall to the floor, before he surged towards you and took your lips in his. The kiss was feverish, desperate. It had your body jolting backwards at the sheer force of it, but when you regained your composure, you quickly fell into his kiss like a helpless puddle of goo.

Limbs entangled with one another, his arms bracketing around your waist and holding you as if letting go would cause you to disappear forever. Your chest was pressed flush against him, leaving you no room to wiggle out, but you melted into him with ease, uncaring of the sudden display of need.

It was dizzying, staggering. It left your mind a fumbled mess.

“Si–” you attempted to croak, word getting cut off as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart,” he breathed, nuzzling his face into the span of your jaw, lips brushing faintly against the skin. “I just need you. Please.”

You sucked in a shaky breath, hand coming up to tangle in the short locks of hair on his head. They were soft against your palm, and you smoothed them down.

“How–?”

“All of you. Please, sweetheart, just– you trust me, right?”

Selfish.

“Of course,” you mused. You felt him smile against your neck.

“Then please.”

“...Okay, Simon,” you whispered, because how could you deny the very man who did nothing but care for you to his best ability? Who saved you when nobody else was there to pick up the pieces and mend you together with the craftiness of their hands? “Okay.”

Simon breathed a heavy sigh of relief before pressing needy kisses along the expanse of your throat. Your head lolled to the side to allow him more access, mouth parting to release quiet gasps of surprise.

Every movement of his was unlike anything he’d done. He was always so calculated, so accurate and careful, yet this time, he was sloppy and unsystematic. It was as if he were only allowing his mind to take over, rather than logistics and realism.

The two of you moved in a clumsy dance, with him guiding you back towards the space of your bedroom with his arms unwavering around you and his lips continuing a messy attack on your neck. When you somehow made it past the door frame and into the comforting safe haven of your bedroom, his hands slipped down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head in a hurry.

“Is everything okay, Simon?” you asked worriedly, and he smiled at you, a tinge of sadness lingering at the back of his pupils.

“Just want to spend time with my pretty girl. Can I do that, sweetheart?”

You blinked at him when his hands came to a standstill against your hips, thumbs lightly brushing over the supple skin. His expression was so soft, one he only reserved for you and nobody else. The lines along his face were smoothened into a tender look, and you couldn’t help but admire it with a smile.

“You always can,” you assured, missing the way Simon winced.

Simon rushed forward once again, and your mouths met in an uncoordinated mess of teeth and tongue. It was hot and heavy, demanding and eager, and it showed in the way he lightly pushed you back to rest on your bed.

One of his hands pressed into the mattress next to your head while the other glossed over your side, cold fingertips causing goosebumps to rise. You shuddered, resting your own hands on each side of his jaw, tangling yourself and getting thrown into his web of affection.

“Wanna touch you,” he rasped, fingers sliding down to the hem of the pajama shorts you had yet to change out of, toying with it but not daring to pry until your say so. “Please.”

You sucked in a breath before promptly nodding, and that was all he needed to slip his fingers past the waistband, dipping his fingers into the warmth of your cunt. He was greeted with sweet wetness, and he let out a quiet groan into the curve of your neck, pressing a messy kiss there.

The pads of his fingers scooped up a bit of your slick like candied nectar, before rolling it around your clit, causing your legs to jolt in surprise. Air filled your lungs, burning at the expanding of your chest, before being released in a blissful form of a sigh, eyes fluttering up at him.

“M’gonna take care of you, sweetheart, I promise,” he murmured against your neck.

Simon’s fingers continued to toy at your clit with a feverish motion, circling at a messy pace. It wasn’t steady, but it didn’t matter – it felt good, and it brought butterflies to swarm in your stomach, blooming at the newfound feeling.

He was so gentle in the way he treated you, yet balanced it out with subtle desperation that had your toes curling as he worked wonders against your cunt. He’d circle your clit, before dipping down to tease at the wetness that sopped out of your hole, just to slide back up to continue the torturous prodding against your sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Simon,” you breathed, voice cracking.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his voice laced with sultry sweetness to it. “That okay, pretty girl? Wanna ruin you, fuck.”

“Please,” you pleaded, and the shakiness in your tone had him kissing you once before sliding his lips down. His fingers slipped out of your shorts, and before you could protest, they tugged down the fabric, soft against your legs, before he dropped them on the floor.

His hands gently spread your legs, and without a single hint of warning, you felt the warmth of his tongue press flat against your clit while his finger eased inside of you. Stars burst behind your eyes and you let out a strangled noise, hand frantically grasping on to his hair and gripping.

It was like the heavens were opening in the clouds above, shining warm rays of light all over you and heating you up from the inside. It was a delicious feeling, the way he sucked and slobbered all over your cunt like a man on a mission, his finger fucking inside of you with earnest.

Messy sounds filled the room combined with your pitiful whimpers and gasps of his name, and they only egged him on further.

If this was the last time he’d ever see you, he’d make it count. Your pleasure was his, and nothing else mattered.

One finger quickly became two, and he created a rhythm between fucking you with his fingers and swirling his tongue around your sensitive clit. The stimulation had you keening, already teetering on the edge of insanity. Your mind was blank and void of anything but moans of Simon’s name.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he breathed into your cunt, making you whine. “Come on. Cum on my fingers, know you can.”

His voice sent vibrations straight through your body, and your back arched with a wail, thighs clamping around his head in a death grip. They shook with the aftershocks of your climax, but that didn’t stop him from swallowing down every bit of you until it became too much.

He only released you when your fingers tugged on his hair, and when he sat back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Simon smiled at you, eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, pouring over with nothing short of admiration and awe.

You laid on the bed, breathless and sated, a sheen of sweat covering the expanse of your skin. It glimmered in the dim light of your room, and he pressed delicate kisses along the salty sweetness, making his way up your body.

“So good, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

You could nothing but nod dumbly, eyes half lidded as you watched him reach down between your two bodies to fiddle with the buckle of his pants. It clanged together, filling the air with glimpses of what was to come next, and when he got it undone, he wasted no time in tugging them down until he was bare from the waist down.

The sight was beautiful. His cock was hot and heavy between his legs, a slight shine over the flushed tip from precum, and you felt your mouth begin to water.

This was Simon in all of his glory, and only you had been the lucky one to see it. What an honor.

“So pretty,” Simon breathed, causing your gaze to snap up from his cock and to his face. His mouth was parted as his large hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it lazily while he looked at you. His breath fanned over your mouth from the close proximity. “So beautiful. You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Your mind turned to mush at his words. You squirmed against the bed sheets, shyly looking away from him. His free hand came up to gently grasp your jaw, drawing you back to look at him, and his smile knocked the wind out of you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeated, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips.

The feeling of the head of his cock lining up with your entrance had you gasping into his mouth, and he smiled against you, eyes unwavering from yours as he stretched you open.

It was an ecstatic feeling, one that filled you to the brim with elation. It burned inside of you with flickering flames of want.

He continued to push, and push, until he was flush with you, fully seated inside of your warm, slippery heat. There was a scratch that only Simon could itch, and he knew this. It was why when he began to move inside of you, he started off slow before burrowing into a needy pace filled with smothering desire.

Simon rested his forearms on each side of your head, hovering over you while his hips snapped into you, greedily taking everything you had to offer. It sent you into a puddled mess, mouth hung open as throaty moans escaped every time he took more and more. Your fingernails dug into his biceps, grounding yourself as much as you could with the way your body jolted back and forth from the force of him fucking you.

Fucking? Is that what it was? It felt much more meaningful than that. Simon kissed you with sentiment, thrust into you with aching longingness, praised you like a goddess in the sky and you were his saint.

His groans and grunts filled your ears like lovely symphonies, each note sending goosebumps to rise along your arms and neck. It was a beautiful song, filling you with the wonders of emotions. You couldn’t get enough.

“My pretty girl,” he sighed. His own words seem to turn him on further, as his pace increased, becoming an aggressive slap of skin with every thrust. His cock dragged mercifully along the walls of your cunt, his leaking tip hitting the spongy spot and causing your body to go lax as you took and took. “What are you doin’ t’me?”

“Simon,” you whimpered, and he chuckled out a breathy laugh. With his forearms still resided on the sides of your head, his fingers interlocked on the top of your head, holding you firm against him and keeping you in place.

“So fuckin’ good t’me. Don’t deserve you.”

You clamped around him, causing him to groan. His pace was becoming messy and sloppy, but no less relenting.

“I’ll make sure you’re cared for. Won’t ever have to worry ‘bout anythin’ with me around,” he whispered, and you weren’t fully processing the words. To you, it was mindless babble that you simply took in through the hazy state of your mind, nodding eagerly at every empty promise.

The two of you were growing restless, your bodies building a molten core of unleashed pleasure that threatened to erupt at any given moment. It was hot and scalding, burning the pit of your stomach.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” he asked, almost mockingly. You cried, fingernails digging into his biceps so harshly, the skin nearly broke with pebbled drops of blood. “Yeah? Go ahead, I’ve got you.”

Your own body was betraying you, and you succumbed to the burst of bliss, chest pressing up against his, needy cries singing from your lips. Your eyes spotted with hints of black, the stimulation becoming overbearing.

Simon didn’t allow himself his own pleasure until you had yours, so when he felt you clench around him in a vice, he let himself go, spilling into you and flooding you with milky warmth. It coated your insides like a beautiful painting, filling you with douses of his undying affection.

He slumped on to you, face buried in the crook of your neck. The two of you laid there in comforting silence, catching your breaths and processing the new intimacy formed between you.

While you were riding on a cloud of euphoria, Simon was being dragged into the deepest pits of hell.

Selfish.

What a horrible person he was. All he had to do was let you go, but he did even worse than he had done before.

This was worse than killing men and women. This was worse than killing Graves out of rage.

He was going to leave you behind, make you feel like you meant nothing more than a calculated fuck, and he was going to burn in hell for it. All because he fell in love with you, all because he couldn’t kill you.

When Simon helped clean you up and buried you in your blankets, he waited until you were asleep, sedated and happy. Your frown lines were smoothed over with a look of peace and ecstasy, and he traced along the flush of your skin until he knew it was time.

He carefully made his way out of the comfort of your bed, movements slow as not to disturb you. He gathered his clothes, sifting them on with a hint of resentment for his own actions, and he left.

Just like that, he left.

Simon blocked your number without so much as a goodbye text, or an explanation, telling you that you did nothing wrong. He didn’t tell you that he was the issue, that he was the one in the wrong. Didn’t tell you he fell in love with you, and now he was facing the consequences for it.

He typed out one final message to Price, hoping to satisfy the bastard for what he forced him to do.

“It’s done.”